


Welcome to the Jungle

by westyellowgroom



Series: Into the Forest [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Post-Season/Series 04, hurt/comfort/illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 19:01:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16373234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westyellowgroom/pseuds/westyellowgroom
Summary: Story Note: Timeline Feb/Mar/April.Recipe:http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/anne-burrell/pasta-bolognese-recipe-1939315https://pinchofyum.com/thai-yellow-chicken-curry-with-potatoes





	1. Revelations

It’s been weeks since the debacle with Euros at Sherrinford. John has been helping Sherlock clean and renovate the flat taking time off from or turning down extra shifts at the clinic to help out as he can. Sherlock stayed at John’s for the first couple of weeks until the water and gas were safely on again. When John went to Baker Street, he would bring Rosie along with him if Molly couldn’t stay at his place with her. In the end she came more often than not and came to enjoy her time at 221, both upstairs and in Mrs. Hudson’s flat, after her kitchen was remodeled first. John and Sherlock spent several days working late into the night. John stayed over a few times, retreating to his old room with Rosie in a portable crib, too tired to make his way back to a cold and empty house across town. 

When the renovations were complete, there was no valid reason for John to visit almost every day. Work helped, but John felt as though something remained missing in his life. The few times over the ensuing weeks, Sherlock called John to have him come help on cases were few and far between. Sherlock spent every other Monday at Sherrinford, visiting with his sister Euros. John always made it a point to visit on the Tuesday after with Rosie though, she helped to de-stress Sherlock.

John didn’t realize just how depressed he had become until he received an envelope in the mail that enclosed a CD with “Miss you” penned on it. Slightly panicked, John phoned Sherlock to come to the flat. Mary sent yet another message, this time to the two of them. She encouraged them to remain best friends and stay together.

After yet another sleepless night, John comes to a decision and calls in sick to the clinic. Rosie was already scheduled to spend the day with Molly, he would drop her off on the way to Baker Street. 

Knocking on the door while letting himself in the flat with his keys, “Hey Sherlock. Busy?” John greets.

Sherlock looks up from his microscope at the kitchen table, “For you John, never. What can I do for you? Where’s Watson?” Sherlock is wearing a white button down shirt and dark grey colored slacks covered loosely by his tan dressing gown.

“Rosie is with Molly, she likes her cat.” Shy, “I” cough, “I, um, want to… to ask you… something. I’m… (Whispered) shite.” John comes to attention, looks Sherlock in the eye. “I want to come home, here, back to Baker Street.”

Pleased, “You are always welcome here.”

Cautious, “It’s not just me anymore you remember?”

“I am well aware of that” the ‘obviously’ silent, but still implied.

Reluctant, “You don’t mind? There will noise and mess…”

“As if there is none here now?” waving a hand around. The flat is cleaner than usual, but has an ‘eloquent’ layer of dust starting up after all the reconstruction.

More assured, “Cries in the middle of the night”

“I sleep very little, you know that.”

Assertive, “You can’t use all the milk for your experiments, Rosie will need it.”

“I can always buy my own.” Confident.

Shocked and confused, “Really? I’ve never known you buy milk or any other groceries for that matter.”

Nodding over to the corner, “Check the refrigerator, I knew you would be coming over today.” Looking smug, and overly satisfied.

John steps over to the new, larger, refrigerator and opens the door. Milk, vegetables, sliced meats, beer (his brand); no body parts in sight, sparkling clean.

Looking over at Sherlock, “You feel alright?” Bemused.

Proud, “I am feeling quite fine thank you. There is only one problem with the two of you moving in.”

“And that would be?” a bit curious.

Sherlock looks John in the eyes, “Rosie will need her own space.”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t be a problem for a few years. I can kip on the couch when she gets older.” Nervous again.

“Don’t be absurd John, it would wreak havoc with your back and shoulder. You will share with me, my bed is more than big enough for two. I made room in the wardrobe and space for another breakfront.” Sherlock waves his hand down the hall to his bedroom.

“You? Share a, a bed… with you? Together?” Waved hand between them.

Sherlock shrugs, frowning, “I don’t see the problem. We’ve shared before.”

“Yeah, I know… you don’t see…“ John is trying to be reasonable.

Sherlock interrupts, “It’s not as if I go to bed every night either. You know I don’t sleep while on a case.”

“You sure you want me that close to you?” Concerned.

“Why ever not?” Confused.

“Why not?” incredulous, “I’ve beat the crap out of you on more than one occasion!” irritated, but still in control.

Looking away, “I deserved it.” Almost a whisper, self-depreciating

Assertive, annoyed, “Sherlock! You NEVER deserve to be hurt, especially by me. I am genuinely sorry for that.” Shamefully apologetic at the end. “I’ve gone back to Ella to work on my anger.”

“It’s okay John, I forgive you. Will you move back in with me then?” Forgiving, eager.

“People are definitely going to talk” Smiling.

“They do little else.” Smirking.

“Yeah. You know what? I don’t care. I miss this place, and you for that matter. Fine. Fine we can share.”

“Excellent! When can we go get your belongings?” Sherlock jumps up from his seat, removing his dressing gown, tossing it over a chair back.

“Bit eager are we?” Laughing, relaxed.

“Well, I missed you as well. It’s too quiet around here, Mrs. Hudson doesn’t get my tea quite right… the skull isn’t nearly as entertaining as he used to be.” Pouting.

John giggling a moment before being thoughtful. “Yeah, I’ll need to hire a truck to move Rosie’s stuff. I don’t have much.”

Sherlock pulls out his phone, “We’ll rent a lorry and I’ll drive it myself. We can pick it up and go now.”

John laughs again, “Okay, alright, let’s go!”

\---

An hour later finds them walking through the front door of John’s townhouse, a rented box lorry parked outside. A large stack of folded boxes and rolls of packing tape carried inside by both men. There is a pile of clean laundry folded on the spotless kitchen table, mostly sheets, towels and baby clothes.

“Oh! John, we should bring all the blankets, the power went out week before last. It was cold, even with a fire.” Fingers the linens. “Leave the sheets though, mine are of better quality.”

“Okay... How about dishes? You’ve run experiments on most of what is in the flat now.”

“Yeah, promise I’ll use the old ones from now on. Store them in the airing cupboard… Oh, you might want to grab the tableware while you’re at it too.”

“Alright... pots, pans?”

“You know me John.” Smug.

Grinning back, “So the whole kitchen then. Did we bring enough boxes?”

“I… I think so. Use the large pot for the cutlery just in case. Add dishtowels to cut the noise.”

“Brilliant!” 

Sherlock blushes, “John…“

“Alright, alright. I’m going to go up and start taking the crib apart. Need to grab Rosie’s things and at least a change of clothes for me.”

“Bring everything John. I don’t want to have to come back.”

“Right, you’re right.” 

“Should have grabbed a couple of my homeless network to help load the lorry.” Sulking.

“Should have had Mycroft’s minions do this, he owes me.” John growls.

“For what?” confused

“For not telling me you were alive for over two years and for not informing me about the assassin I married!” Captain Watson is annoyed. John takes a few calming breaths.

“I’m so, so sorry John…” repentant, not looking at John

“As long as you don’t fake your death on me again Sherlock we’re good.” Commanding.

“I could never leave you like that again John.” Looking John in the eyes, repentant.

“Good, because I almost didn’t survive.” Mumbled, turning away

“What? Why would you not survive my fake suicide?” puzzled.

Distressed, turning back, “Do you know how close I came to following you off that roof? What losing you did to me? I was so depressed. After your funeral, I crawled into a bottle for a week.” Deep shuddering breath, a tear rolls down his left cheek, “I took my gun once along with a bottle to your headstone. I passed out before I could pull the trigger. Woke up with the mother of all hangovers, in my bed at Baker Street, gun locked up, not a bullet in the flat. I suspect Mycroft had something to do with it.” Another tear.

“John…” shocked, worried, tear rolls down Sherlock’s right cheek.

“Every time I was at Bart’s,” sniff, “Molly or Greg would just happen to run into me. Every bloody time! Hell, I even resorted to searching the flat to find any secreted drugs you may have left behind. I smoked all of your cigarettes in case you wondered where they went.”

“John!” shocked.

“You didn’t know, but I was close to eating a bullet the day we first met. I was nothing, I couldn’t be a soldier, and I couldn’t be a surgeon anymore. I was nobody, nothing. You gave me a reason to live again, and when you left… it all came back with a vengeance.” Another tear, “You can’t do that to me ever again Sherlock, I won’t survive!”

Frantic, fearful, hand on Johns arm. “I can’t, I couldn’t. The entire time I was away, I was lonely and miserable, I wanted to come back home to you. I became reckless toward the end, that’s how I was captured. I just wanted to finish and go home.” Another tear rolls down.

“At least you knew I was alive! I thought you threw yourself off a building because no one believed in you.” More tears, “You jumped before I could tell you how much I” sniffle, “I loved you! Do you know how much that hurt? I couldn’t stop the man I loved from jumping…” choked sob, “I still have nightmares about it.” 

“You… you love me? I thought you weren’t gay? How can you love me?” shocked, “I love you too” low, almost too low to hear, but it is heard.

Shocked, wet grin, “You love me?” sniff, “I thought you would have figured it out by now. I’m not gay, but I’m not totally straight either. I’m bisexual.”

Confused, “You never dated men when we were flat mates…”

Teary grin, “Who could compare with you?”

Stunned, “Me? I’m all bony angles.” Sigh, “You my friend are perfection.” 

Huffs in disbelief, “I’m just a broken old soldier…”

Interrupts, insistent, “You are a brave, clever, generous man! Never underestimate your worth!”

“Okay, okay.” Snuffle, “Guess we’re both a mess.” Sniffle, “How about, if you ever have to leave again we arrange a nice fake murder-suicide? No one would question me shooting you and then myself in remorse.” Teased.

“Deal!” sniffle, cough, “Oh! What about Rosie?”

Thinking, sniffle, “Ah, we hide her with Mycroft with a note in case she asks about us.”

Nods, “Clever!” sniffle, “We should get back to packing…”

Sniffle, cough, licks lips, “I think we could both use a hug first, yeah?” John opens his arms.

Arms wrap tight around one another. “You’re brilliant too John.” Hugging tighter, John blushes.


	2. Home Sweet Home

The rental lorry is stuffed full with boxes filled with John and Rosie’s lives. A full kitchen worth of dishes, cooking pots, pans and utensils along with a microwave, toaster, kettle and a few other small appliances that have never been used for an experiment are also on board. John’s old army duffle bag, footlocker and a newer suitcase hold most of his clothing and personal belongings. Mary’s suitcases hold Rosie’s current sized clothing and soft toys. The few books and DVD’s brought when John moved out of Baker Street and those he purchased since then are packed along with all the photos.

Everything that belongs to Rosie, even outfits she’s outgrown are packed. The crib parts are wrapped in spare blankets to keep the pieces from rubbing. They have a small debate over Mary’s belongings, in the end they take her jewelry to give to Rosie when she’s older. They leave Mary’s clothes and any furniture not needed behind to dispose of later. They did however, take all the rugs, towels and blankets.

Mrs. Hudson is in, cleaning the entryway when they return. Sherlock opens the back of the lorry out front as John unlocks the front door. “Oh, John! How are you doing? I don’t think Sherlock is home dear. Is Rosie visiting with you?” 

Smiling, “Hello Mrs. Hudson. I’m fine thank you. In fact, I’m moving back in.” Pointing out the door at the lorry, through the snowflakes just starting to fall. “Molly took Rosie for the day, Rosie adores her cat Toby.”

Clapping her hands together with a big grin. “Wonderful! Sherlock will be so thrilled. He won’t say but he was so lonely without you here. Won’t you be crowded, the three of you?” She pats John’s arm.

“No, no, not at all…” John starts to answer

Sherlock, interrupting with a smile, carrying in crib parts, “We’ve worked it all out Mrs. Hudson, no need to worry.”

“Right, I’ll just stay out of your way then.” Mrs. Hudson picks up her cleaning supplies and disappears back into her flat with a big smile on her face mumbling something about a celebration. Her boys are both home again.

John and Sherlock smile at one another. Sherlock then heads up the stairs as John goes out to the lorry for a load.

Unloading is faster than loading the lorry, they can unpack most of the boxes later. Rosie’s belongings are brought up to John’s old room. The boys bring the breakfront that was in the room down to Sherlock’s for John to use. The newly made space holds Rosie’s changing table/breakfront.

First things first, they start with setting up Rosie’s room so she can sleep in there tonight. John did have the foresight to pack up her bedding and label the container well. Sherlock and John organize Rosie’s room, bumping into one another here and there, smiling and apologizing. In the end John’s old single bed is in one corner with a menagerie of stuffed toys on it. The crib is in the opposite corner near the door, with the changing table under the window; the wardrobe holds extra crib bedding along with her clothes. One of Mary’s thicker rugs on the hardwood floor.

The marked boxes for the kitchen are stacked behind the door in the kitchen, floor to ceiling with the large stock pot holding the tableware on top. They leave the kitchen be for now and head into Sherlock’s, now their, bedroom. John’s breakfront is on the wall next to Sherlock’s, his duffle and suitcase open on the bed. John’s old army trunk is tucked under the window. 

Sherlock starts to unpack John’s duffle bag, leaving a few items of clothing off to the side. John frowns at the slowly growing pile but says nothing while he’s hanging shirts and slacks in the wardrobe out of the suitcase. When John is finished, laying his housecoat over the foot of the bed, his curiosity gets the better of him.

“Sherlock, why are you putting these aside?” pointing to a pile of jumpers, socks, pants and a couple button down shirts; a few of which were taken out of the suitcase.

Sherlock doesn’t look up from the socks he’s sorting into a top drawer. “Hmm? Oh, you shouldn’t wear those anymore. They look hideous on you.” Blunt and to the point.

“Hideous… you think my clothes are… you know what? Fine, I don’t care, toss them.” John is too tired from the long day of moving and emotional shakeup to argue about the small pile of his belongings.

That surprised Sherlock who eagerly turns, “Really? Can I sort through the rest of your clothes then?”

John can’t help but laugh at that, “Not today. Just make sure I’m around before you throw anything else out. My mum gave me some of the jumpers, I’d like to keep those.”

Sherlock frowns, “Sentiment?”

John nods and smiles back, “Sentiment.”

“Fine. You don’t have a lot do you?” The breakfront is half empty and the space Sherlock cleared in the wardrobe is barely touched. Sherlock makes a mental note to figure a way to purchase some nice new clothes for John. 

John shrugs and shakes his head, “No, I guess I’ve always been able to travel light. Leftover from my Army days I guess. I could use a cuppa, want one?”

“Yeah, but we need to take the lorry back and pick up Rosie before Molly goes to work.” Sherlock answers.

Just as John opens his mouth to reply, the lights flicker as the power goes out.


	3. Lights Out

John looks out the front windows up and down Baker Street, “Looks like the whole area is out. Snow’s starting to stick too.” Turning around to inform Sherlock.

“It was cold in here the last time, even with a fire going. Does Molly have power? If so she should keep Rosie until we get power and heat again.”

“I’ll call her and see…” John starts

“No, if Rosie is napping you might wake her up” interjects Sherlock.

“Yeah… hand me my phone, it’s in my coat behind you.” Sherlock throws John his coat. “Thanks.”

_Power is out here, no heat. Do you have any? JW_

John and Sherlock head out and are almost back to the rental agency with the lorry when the reply from Molly comes in.

_Have heat and power, don’t work tonight, can keep Rosie. Come over if you want. ^-^_

_Ta! That’s great. I’m good, I’ll pick her up tomorrow. JW_

“Molly can keep Rosie for the night, she’ll be warm and safe.”

“Good. We should pick up take-out on the way back to Baker Street. There is power in this part of the city.” 

\---

They arrive back at the flat to a collection of candles waiting on the coffee table, a plate of fresh biscuits and a fire burning in the fireplace thanks to Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock adds wood and stirs up the fire while John heats water on the gas hob for tea. John brings the tray holding tea and take-away into the lounge to find Sherlock had built them a nest of blankets in front of the fire. A couple candles lit on the mantle in front of the mirror.

“This is nice, should help keep us warm” John hands Sherlock his prepared tea, “I have a slight improvement though.” Grinning, John goes down the hall and comes back with the sheets from the bed. John then moves their chairs closer with the ‘client’ chair between, throwing the sheets over them to make a bit of a roof and back wall. “Lean-to, should trap the heat of the fire better.”

“Hmmm, it’s warmer already. Where did you learn to do that John?” Sherlock leans against his chair sipping his perfect cup of tea.

John looking a bit pleased with himself. “Bit of Army training, course my Granddad taught me a few tricks as well.” Sits down, close to Sherlock, grabbing his cup of tea. Reaching for the take-out containers, handing Sherlock his, “Eat.” Taking a bite of his own curry.

“Yes Doctor” Sherlock smirks and takes a bite. “I’ve missed this… us.” Not looking at John.

“Yeah, me too Sherlock” a slight blush.

A few minutes pass while they eat in companionable silence before Sherlock speaks. “John? Not long ago you told me to… take a chance, do something, while there’s still a chance…” nervous.

“Um, yeah, I… remember?” A bit confused.

Sherlock is desperately hoping John recalls. “Do you remember the conversation we had the first time we went to Angelo’s?” Thinking this might not be as quite hard as he thinks to get his point across if John remembers.

Thinking a moment, “Yes, yes of course I do... oh, oh! That’s right, ‘girlfriend not your area’.” Licking his lips. Nervous himself, “So, do you have a boyfriend then?” 

Timidly smiling, “I… hope to have one… in the near future.” Slowly reaching a slightly trembling hand out to place it on John’s knee.

Suppressing a shudder while glancing down at his knee and back up to look Sherlock in the eye. Hopeful, “Anyone I might know?” low, almost a whisper.

“I believe you might,” calming breath, relieved John hasn’t reacted poorly, “he’s an ex-army doctor with an adrenaline kick.” Tilting his head a bit and raising an eyebrow. Placing the almost empty take-out container on the hearth.

John, closing his eyes for a moment in silent thanks to every known deity and a few unknown ones as well while placing his take-out container next to Sherlock’s. “Oh, God yes” he breathes out. He places a hand the over the one Sherlock has on his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. “So, you are no longer ‘married to your work’ then?”

Smiling, “I’m thinking of it as more of an open marriage or I may give being a polygamist a go.” 

Knowingly smiling in return, “I’m extremely jealous… not sure if I could handle polygamy, I wouldn’t want to have to share you.” As he’s speaking, John leans in closer to Sherlock.

As their lips brush, Sherlock goes still. John pulls back, then leans in again. It takes a moment but Sherlock finally relaxes with a gasp. John darts his tongue into Sherlock’s mouth. John swallows Sherlock’s moan as he presses closer, twining the fingers of his free hand in Sherlock’s curls at the back of his head.

John pulls back with a grin. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.” 

Sherlock looks as though he’s storing everything in his mind palace or in mild shock.

John rises, adjusts himself in his pants then takes the mostly empty food containers away to throw out. On his way back, he grabs a bottle of Scotch and two tumblers pouring out a fingers worth in each glass, handing one to Sherlock. John throws another log on the fire and sits, closer to Sherlock than he was before.

“You know John, alcohol will lower our core temperatures…” Sherlock begins.

“I know, I am a Doctor after all. You seemed… tense, thought it would help take the edge off.” John smiles sweetly and clicks their glasses together, “To us” and takes a small sip.

“To us” Sherlock repeats, sipping himself.

John leans in to kiss Sherlock again. Murmuring as he pulls back just before their lips meet, “You should be kissed and kissed often by someone who knows how.”

Sherlock breathes out an, “Oh God yes!”

\---

 **The Personal Blog of  
** **Dr. John H Watson  
** **17th February**

**Home Sweet Home**

It takes a lot to realize one might be in over one’s head. It takes a strong person to ask for the help when in need. My friends have helped where they could, but I can’t expect them to drop everything in their lives for me all the time. Managing a house, work and a baby are more than I can cope with on my own. I need help, I can’t do everything by myself. Lord knows I’ve tried my best these past few months since Mary was taken away.

I had help at Christmas, more than I realized at the time.

I have struggled tremendously since they returned to their home.

Most of this I realized while I was chained to the bottom of a well, up to my chest in freezing water.

Yesterday I visited a certain Consulting Detective at Baker Street and we talked about the possibility of my moving back in. Sherlock rushed to help me pack up mine and my daughters belongings and even drove the moving lorry!

It feels great to be home again!


	4. The Game Is.... Something

Two weeks later…

“It’s at least an eight John! The game is on! Hurry!” As Sherlock just about dances down the stairs in excitement, twirling into his Belstaff.

Mumbled, “Okay, I’m coming…” louder, “See if Mrs. Hudson can look after Rosie.” John calls down the stairs while putting on his shoes.

“Right, right…” low. Sherlock bellows, “MRS. HUDSON!” bouncing the rest of the way down the stairs.

Mrs. Hudson is free and assures them she is able to stay with Rosie as long as John and Sherlock need her to. She has Molly’s number along with theirs in case an emergency.

Lestrade meets them at an abandoned building across town. Donovan is once again manning the yellow tape at the perimeter. She huffs in annoyance, but otherwise ignores them as they go past, Sherlock and John ignore her in kind. 

Greg leads them inside the old building where there is a body lying in an abandoned restaurant kitchen. The head at one end of the kitchen and the rest of his body at the other. The severed neck of the body is lying over a drain in the floor. There is a looping trail of blood from the body to the head against the far wall. Sherlock looks over the scene as John inspects the body parts.

Lestrade gives background information, “Lazlo Marsh, 26. Wasn’t a robbery, there’s money and cards in his wallet. Cell phone in his pocket. He’s the second headless body we found this month.”

From his position, squatting beside the headless body, John questions, “Who was the first?”

\---

It has been four days of running all over London, on hardly any sleep or food for either man. Sherlock left John to watch for their murder suspect from an alley across from the front of the building, feeling it was the safer of the locations, as he took off to stakeout the rear. Little did our watchers know, but they were being watched as well.

An hour and a half later, John is not to be found when Sherlock goes to check why John has been ignoring his last few texts. There are clear signs of a struggle in the alleyway and what looks like one of John’s loafers. Near the shoe is a broken, bloodstained, pine board with blond and silver hairs on it. In desperation Sherlock tries to call John on his phone, it rings out and goes to voicemail. Next call to Lestrade, then showing just how desperate he is, Mycroft.

After having Sherlock to promise into looking at an investigation of Mycroft’s choosing, Mycroft’s minions are able to track the assailants on CCTV and the GPS on John’s phone. Lestrade and a team from NSY meet Sherlock where the information leads. John and his assailants are in an abandoned restaurant across town. 

The kidnappers were heatedly quarreling over who was going to do the butchery this time when Lestrade and his team entered followed by an anxious Sherlock. Surprised at being found so quickly, the murderous thugs give up without a fight. One is sporting a black eye, the other a swollen, bloody lip and a broken nose apparently courtesy of John. 

Sherlock is greeted by the sight of John, lying on his back unconscious, wrists bound tightly with a length of wire, on the floor in the cold kitchen next to him is a gore covered axe. There is a bloody gash from John’s right eyebrow to above his ear, that side of his face is a giant, blood-stained, swelling bruise. “John!” Sherlock checks for a pulse, steady, and breathing, thank goodness.

Lestrade comes over, putting away his phone, “I’ve called for an ambulance Sherlock. John’s strong, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” patting Sherlock reassuringly on the shoulder.

Sherlock kneeling by John, covers his friend with his shed Belstaff. Sherlock just nods, freeing John’s hands then tucking his coat tighter around John’s still form.

\---

John has been in hospital for three days, unconscious. Thankfully he is breathing on his own, x-rays show nothing is broken. He has a major contusion to the right side of his head; large bruise, including a pair of black eyes and swelling. Sherlock refuses to leave John in case he wakes up, he wants someone to be there; he wants to be there. Sherlock won’t eat or sleep, barely drinks and won’t leave John’s side for longer than a quick call of nature. He sits bedside, holding Johns hand, talking to him about all the adventures they’ve shared and a few of his escapades while taking down Moriarty’s web.

“John, I know you probably can’t hear me and if you do you will think you were dreaming anyway… so here goes.” Deep breath. “I don’t, strike that. I can’t go on without you anymore. I need you. I love you. Please wake up.” Sniff. “Fucking therapist and her ‘I’ statements…” grumbled. 

John slowly turns his head toward the sound of Sherlock’s voice, “Sh’lock“ a slurred, croaked whisper.

“John! You’re awake, thank God! How do you feel?” relieved, thinking to himself maybe ‘I statements aren’t so bad after all’. Grabbing a cup of water and straw from the nearby table for John to take a sip.

“Head… hurts… two” garbled, squinting his eyes closed, bringing a free hand up to feel his head.

“Yeah, you were hit across the head by a board. Do you remember anything?” concerned, “You have stitches, careful.” As John’s hand touches the bandage wrapped around his head.

“How… bright” mumbled, squinting his left eye open.

“Three days, I was getting worried.” Stepping back and flipping the light switch off, then closing the blinds on the window, cutting off the light of the setting sun.

“Ta, did…” muttered, both eyes opened then John quickly blinks them shut, frowning, pressing his lips firmly closed.

“We found you, thankfully they kept your phone and left it on. Lestrade booked them for murder, kidnapping and assault. Mycroft found most of the assault on CCTV video. They aren’t getting out anytime soon.” Coming back to stand bedside and holding John’s hand again.

“Mmm, good. Rosie?” murmured, eyes still shut.

“Molly and Mrs. Hudson are watching her at Baker Street. She misses us but is doing fine, I’ve talked to her on the phone every day.” Assuring, “The Doctor needs to check you out. I need to press your call button, they wanted to know when you woke.” Sherlock finds and presses the call button with his free hand to attract a nurse. “I’m sorry I put you in danger, I only saw indications for one killer, not a team.” Nervous.

“Nobody perfect… even you” mumbled, followed by a groan. John squints one eye open again, then the other; closes both with a moan. “Two” whispered through clenched teeth.

“Yes, there were two assailants, we caught them both.” Reassuring. “Greg wouldn’t let me hurt them.” Pouting.

“No, I see two… nausea” teeth clenched, eyes closed.

“Oh! Double vision, probably from the blow to the head. You have a concussion more than likely.” 

John squints open his left eye and gently squeezes Sherlock’s hand holding his. The nurse finally comes in, “Oh, Mr. Watson you’re awake. Let me go page the Doctor.” Before either can say anything she’s gone.

Sherlock squeezes John’s hand back, “I’ve missed you, I was starting to worry you wouldn’t wake up…”

“I heard you,” runs his thumb over Sherlock’s knuckles, “Thank you”, his voice stronger, small smile with his right eye closed.

Just then the door bangs open and the lights flicked back on by the Doctor followed by a pair of nurses, one male (Karl) the other having been the woman who checked a few moments before (Sandy). Behind them is Mycroft carrying a small suitcase in one hand, his umbrella in the other.

The Holmes brothers both note John’s grimace and groan. Sherlock glares at the intruders.

“Ah Mr. Watson, glad to see you’re finally awake.” The Doctor greets the room.

In unison, both Holmes brothers correct her, “Doctor Watson.”

“Sorry, sorry, Doctor Watson. I’m Doctor Vickie Barnes. How are you feeling?” As she walks bedside.

John squints his left eye open again as Sherlock answers, “His head hurts, has double vision and nausea, sensitive to light.”

Doctor Barnes lifts an eyebrow at Sherlock, responds annoyed, “I was asking the patient.” Turning back to look at John, speaking to him as to a child, “Now Doctor Watson, how do you feel?”

“My head hurts, I have double vision and nausea, light sensitive. Just like he said.” John growls as Sherlock looks at Doctor Barnes smugly. 

“Okay, I’m going to check your pupil reaction.” Doctor reaches to the side and picks up a basin. “If you feel like you need to vomit, use this.” As she presses it into John’s hands. Doctor Barnes pulls a penlight out of her pocket and lifts John’s eyelids one at a time flashing the light in. “Right pupil is slow to react. Do you have nausea with only the one eye open?”

Commanded through clenched teeth with tightly shut eyelids, “No. No more light.” 

Mycroft flicks off the switch next to where he is leaning on the wall, the only light is what is coming through the open door. Sherlock nods at Mycroft in thanks. Doctor Barnes and the nurses give him a look that doesn’t disturb him at all. 

“We need light to see what we’re doing sir…” Begins Nurse Sandy.

“I believe Doctor Watson has specified that the light bothers him. It will be kept off until it no longer does. Are we clear?” commanded, Mycroft stares her down.

“Y, yes sir” she stammers back, slipping out of the room.

Doctor Barnes pipes up irritated, “Well now that we’ve got that settled, I would like the light on so I can check my patient.”

Sherlock reaches behind John while telling him, “Keep your eyes closed.” to turn on a dim light behind the bed. “There you go Doctor, examine away,” smug.

“And you are?” the doctor demands of Sherlock.

John answers, “My partner” Sherlock beams.

Doctor Barnes huffs, “Okay”, drawing the word out. She continues her examination and testing reflexes and strength. “Right, I’ll prescribe you something for the pain but I’d like you to stay here a few more days to see if your vision improves.” She writes her assessment on John’s chart. Turns to nurse Keith, “See that Doctor Watson gets something to eat.” Turns to Sherlock and behind him Mycroft, “Visiting hours are over, I’ll have to ask you both to leave.”

Sherlock snorts derisively as Mycroft stares her down. “My brother will not be leaving, arrangements have been made. I will come and go as needs be.” He addresses Sherlock while handing over the bag, “Mrs. Hudson was kind enough to put together some more clean clothes for you and added pajamas for John. I believe she included something to eat as well this time.”

Sherlock sets the bag on his abandoned chair.

Meanwhile Doctor Barnes is standing looking like a fish out of water, opening and closing her mouth. Finally she gathers her wits, “I beg your pardon! Just who do you think you are?” She demands from Mycroft.

Sherlock and John have mirroring smirks while holding hands. 

Mycroft clears his throat, checks the nails on his right hand and deigns to answer, “I am someone not to be trifled with if you value your career Doctor Barnes. My brother will be staying with Doctor Watson for as long as he wishes. The guards stationed outside the door will remain for the duration of their stay. If you are finished checking the good Doctor might I suggest you turn off the offending light and go about your rounds?” 

The nurse still in the room is stunned but it is nothing to the look on Doctor Barnes’ face. To his credit the nurse puts down the chart and leaves the room, presumably to collect the pain medication and food. Doctor Barnes comes out of her stunned trance, turns off the light on her way out.

Sherlock looks over, “Thank you Mycroft” he says softly.

Mycroft nods and steps closer. “I can keep John entertained if you desire to” he looks at Sherlock from head to toe, “freshen up.”

John opens an eye and takes a closer look at Sherlock then frowns. “Sherlock… take care of yourself. I need you around too ya’know.”

Sherlock looks at the floor, “I didn’t want to leave you alone in case you woke up…”

“Shower, eat. Then come and kip next to me…” John closes his eye then shifts over in the bed to make room for another body. 

Sherlock nods at John, “Alright John.” He turns to look closely at Mycroft, “You’ll stay until I finish.” Not a question, but Mycroft answers anyway.

“It would be my pleasure brother mine.” Mycroft steps further into the room to the second chair in the room and sits, umbrella across his lap, phone in hand

Reluctantly Sherlock lets go of John’s hand to rummage in the bag. He brings out a washbag, pajamas a housecoat and slippers. He digs in once more to bring out a tin, placing it on the bedside table. He turns back to John to bend down and whispers in his ear, “I’ll be back shortly, and don’t go where I can’t follow” then kisses him on the cheek.

John smiles as he whispers back, “I’ll do my best love.”

Blushing, Sherlock grabs his washbag and change of clothes and heads into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Mycroft had been texting and puts his phone away, “Ah, just you and me now John. I have requested a neurologist to stop by to assess you.”

John turns his head toward Mycroft’s voice, “Thank you. Where am I?” drowsily, eyes closed.

“We are at St. Bartholomew’s, it was closest to Baker Street.”

“Okay, good. I want Mike Stamford to oversee my care, he’s my Doctor.” Left eye open again.

Mycroft tilts his head to the side, “I can make the arrangements if you are certain.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. We studied together, Mike is better than Barnes, always was.” Confidant.

Mycroft pulls out his phone and sends a quick text. “Are you settling in well at Baker Street? I wasn’t sure how Sherlock would handle Miss Watson’s presence.” 

John smiles fondly, “Surprisingly he seems to enjoy having her around, even changed a few diapers. Reads to her every night, course sometimes it is research for a case.”

Mycroft looks incredulous, “Sherlock changing a diaper, not something I thought I would ever hear.”

“I know, Sherlock seems transformed after Sherrinford. It’s odd, but he seems more open, mellowed… at least at home, it’s hard to explain. He’s still an arrogant sod, but that’s part of his charm.” John frowns. “Damn my head hurts, how long unttt…” tenses, teeth clicking, minor tremors in arms and legs; seizure.

“John!” Mycroft exclaims, then grabs the call button to bring in assistance.

By the time the nurse gets in, John has stilled again but is unresponsive for another minute. Doctor Barnes comes in as Sherlock exits the bathroom wearing pyjamas covered by a dressing gown.

Sherlock rushes to John’s side next to Mycroft as he explains, “He was talking and suddenly stopped mid word. He had a seizure, less than thirty seconds; teeth clicking, mild tremors in his limbs” Sherlock stares at John in shock as John begins to moan.

“Diazepam and Zonisamide STAT” pulls up Johns chart, “Why hasn’t he been given his pain reliever? And where is the food I asked to be brought in?” The nurse that came hurries out.

From the bed, “what?” John mumbles, eyes shut.

Sherlock is there in an instant holding John’s hand, “John, you had a seizure. Are you okay?”

“Shite” opens one eye, “bad?”

Mycroft reports as he did to Doctor Barnes earlier as she goes over John’s vitals. Mycroft adds at the end, “I kept track as Doctor Jacobs will need to know.”

Doctor Barnes snaps her gaze to Mycroft, “Doctor Mark Jacobs? How did you convince him to come here?”

Mycroft looks arrogantly at her, “I have my methods. He will be here within” glances at his watch, “the hour. I expect every courtesy to be accorded to him.” The last sentence was not a request.

“Y, y, yes, of course sir.” Doctor Barnes stammers. The door blasts wide open as the two nurses from earlier come back in, one with a tray of food, the other with medicine. 

Sherlock and Mycroft both wrinkle their noses at the odor coming from the tray. Mycroft pulls out his phone and sends another text. “Don’t bother leaving the tray, food will be arriving shortly.” The nurse looks at Mycroft then Doctor Barnes, who doesn’t object, then leaves, taking the tray with her.

In the meantime, the male nurse, with the medicine, is injecting a syringe into the IV drip hooked up to John’s left arm. A tenseness leaves John’s body a few moments after the Diazepam is injected. “Okay Doctor Watson, I have a Zonisamide capsule for you.” The nurse, Karl from his name tag, refills the cup with water. “Open up” he commands.

To his credit John only scowls at the nurse, one eye open, and holds out his free hand, palm up for the medication. Nurse Karl after seeing the look from John and the condescending one from Sherlock across the bed, does not argue. Karl places the pill in John’s hand, waits until he puts it in his mouth then offers the straw for John to drink. 

There is a shadow at the open door along with a light knock. In the doorway, looking a bit shocked, surprised and concerned is Mike Stamford holding a cellphone up in his hand. “John, I didn’t know you were here mate.” Walking in to stand next to Doctor Barnes.

Doctor Barnes, with a slight sneer, “We don’t need you in here Mike and visiting hours are over.”

Before anyone else can say anything Mike replies, “I was summoned.” Holding up his cell phone again. “I am John Watson’s primary and will be taking over his care.” Holding out his hand for the chart she was writing on. “And you should be doing treatment updates on the computer, hospital policy” pointing a thumb at the computer mounted in the corner.

Barnes huffs, “This day just gets better and better. Fine, you do the updates then, I’m going to dinner.” Shoves the file at Mike and storms out.

“Regular ray of sunshine that one is. I see her bedside manner hasn’t improved.” John pipes up from the bed.

Stamford laughs, “Yeah, never was friendly.” Glances at the chart. “I’m not going to change her choice of meds, should be good. Feeling any better?”

“Sleepy. Think the valium is taking effect.” John slurs a bit.

“That’s good, you should get some rest.” Glancing at his watch, “I have a student waiting for me. “I’ll check on you before I leave for the day John, if anything changes let the nurses know.” Mike heads for the door, closing it partly on his way out.

“Thanks Mike.” As Doctor Stamford walks out, John looks at Sherlock with one eye and pats the bed next to him, “Sherlock, you look exhausted. Lay next to me and try to get some sleep.” Yawns. 

Mycroft sits down, facing the door, “You may as well both try and sleep, I will be here when you wake.”

Sherlock must be tired as he doesn’t hesitate to kick off his slippers and climb into bed while removing his dressing gown, and settles in under the blankets. Cuddling next to John, arm flung over his hips. Sherlock lets out a contented sigh while closing his eyes. John kisses Sherlock’s forehead and shifts closer. Both relaxing into sleep quickly.

\---

Within the hour Anthea has come and gone, leaving a bag in the room that smells enticing along with a laptop for Mycroft. She drops off another bag of food for the men outside the door. 

Doctor Jacobs enters the room shortly after Anthea leaves, sees the lights are off, he keeps them that way, leaving the door ajar. Glancing around the room he quietly greets Mycroft as he rises to shake hands. “You must know some important people to get me to come here…” he glances at the men intertwined on the bed. “Which one is the patient?” whispered.

“The blond gentleman, Doctor John Watson. He was accosted three days ago; head trauma. He regained consciousness a couple hours ago. He was experiencing double vision, nausea, a head ache, as well as a sensitivity to light.” Shaking and dropping Doctor Jacobs’ hand. Glancing at the bed. “Just before half six he underwent a seizure. It lasted less than thirty seconds, I was a witness. No previous personal or family history of having any.” Mycroft reports quietly.

“Ah. Let me check his chart, then I’ll examine him. Let them sleep.” The Doctor informs Mycroft who was about to rouse Sherlock. Doctor Jacobs grabs John’s paper chart and stands next to the propped open door to read. He states, “Oh jolly good” while reading. “Finally a fellow practitioner who knows their meds.” He puts the chart down. “Let us have a look then, shall we?” Heading bed side.

“John is a former soldier and my brother, Sherlock, might be a bit sharp upon a sudden waking. Allow me.” Mycroft informs Doctor Jacobs.

“I understand, but I would prefer to wake the patient myself if you don’t mind.” Doctor Jacobs responds.

“Don’t bother” John whispers from the bed, “Try not to wake Sherlock” peaking his left eye open.

“Doctor Watson, I am Doctor Mark Jacobs, call me Mark. How are you feeling?” 

“Headache” opens both eyes to close them again quickly, “double vision, nausea and light sensitive. Call me John.” Whispered, trying not to wake Sherlock.

With a soft voice, “Let me do a quick exam. Afraid I’ll have to use a light, I’ll try to be quick.” Doctor Jacobs clicks on a pen light taken from his pocket. Inspects John’s eyes. Removes the bandage wrapped around his head to check the wound, using his pen light to see, pressing here and there. Does a few quick movement and strength tests, all without waking Sherlock. “I’d like an MRI to be sure, but I believe time will fix your symptoms John.” 

“I was hoping” John whispers back.

Voice low, “When your friend wakes, have him help you have a wash; keep the stitches dry. You’ll feel better, use the call button and have them change the linens.” Patting John on the arm. “I’ll go see about scheduling that MRI.” Looks at Mycroft, “I’ll check back when all is set up.” Doctor Jacobs leaves, closing the door behind him.

“John, feeling up to some food? Anthea dropped off sandwiches and Mrs. Hudson sent along, I believe, a tin of ginger biscuits.” Mycroft asks softly, the glow from his laptop the only light in the room.

“I’ll try the biscuits first, ginger might help with the nausea.”

Mycroft opens the tin on the bedside table, enabling John access. 

“Thanks” John takes a small bite, holds it in his mouth a moment before chewing and swallowing. 

“I requested Anthea bring tea to your liking as well.” Handing it over.

“Ta.” Taking a sip of the offered cup, grinning. “Perfect, even cold.” Eating a second biscuit.

“Did you want more food?” waving a hand at the bag on the side table.

John closes his eye, snuggling against Sherlock, “No, sleepy… tea and biscuits good for now…”

\---

John wakes again in the late morning to Sherlock trying to slip out of bed. “Mmm… comfortable… where…” he sleepily asks, cracking one eye open.

“Loo John. I’ll be right back.”

“Mmm” John stretches, still laying down. Gingerly opens both eyes to slam them shut again. “Nope, not yet.”

“Good morning John.” Mycroft greets.

John cracks an eye open, “Morning Mycroft. Did you stay all night?”

“Of course, Sherlock requested that I stay, so I stayed. Doctor Jacobs scheduled your MRI for later this morning.” Mycroft answers.

“Good, that’s, ah, good. Did anyone notify my sister I was in hospital?” John wonders, pressing the call button.

“I believe Inspector Lestrade let her know personally. Do you require assistance?” Mycroft noticed John had pressed the call button.

“I want the catheter removed. I would like to get cleaned up. Oh, tell Sherlock not to dress. I’ll probably need his help to shower and definitely to shave.” John presses the button again.

Mycroft rises to knock on the bathroom door.

An impatient, “What?” comes from within.

“Doctor Watson requires your assistance brother dear.” Mycroft calls through. 

A delighted, “Oh!” as Sherlock opens the door, he has a container of shave foam in his free hand.

Mycroft turns to John, “I believe I will leave you for a while. I shall return with breakfast within the hour.” Closes down his laptop, leaves it on the bedside table and walks out.

John has raised the head of the bed to sit up, left eye open. “I’d take the catheter out myself, but it’s easier if someone else does it.” 

Sherlock cocks an eyebrow, while blushing, with a grin on his face. 

“I did call for a nurse, but if they don’t get here soon, I’ll walk you through it.” A bit impatient.

Sherlock walks over to the bed, dressing gown flaring behind him, falling off one t-shirt clad shoulder. He’d left the shave cream in the loo. “Doctors make the worst patients.” He teases. An older, female nurse finally walks in as Sherlock asks, “What do you need John?”

John huffs, “I need this bloody catheter and IV removed. Then I’d like to take a shower, a shave and have clean sheets. Then I’d like to have a decent cup of tea.” He sighs. “But I’ll take the first two for now.” Glaring at the nurse.

“I’ll just have to double check with the Doctor Sir…” As she begins to turn to leave.

“Stop!” John commands, “I am a Doctor and if I say the catheter and IV come out, they are going to come out.” Captain Watson is not happy. “I would prefer someone who knows what they are doing remove them, but I will walk my friend over here through it if needs be.” Pointing a thumb at Sherlock who looks positively chuffed at the notion.

“Sir, yes sir.” The nurse comes to attention at John’s tone.

John is somewhat mollified by her actions, “Where were you stationed nurse…?”

The nurse relaxes a bit, “Nurse Levi, you can call me Jessie. I never left the UK, I was stationed at the Northumberland Military Hospital for several years.” She grabs John’s chart, makes a notation on the last page. “Sir if you sign here I’ll remove the catheter and IV.” She points a spot for John to sign. “Order has to be given by a Doctor, they never specified if they had to work here or not.” She grins, puts on gloves and starts to remove the IV. “Where were you stationed Sir?” distracting John.

“Afghanistan, started in Helmand then redeployed to Kandahar. I was shipped back to the Northumberland Military Hospital for six weeks before they finally invalided me out.” John looks at Nurse Jessie closer, “I don’t remember seeing you there.”

Jessie has finished with the IV and lifted the blankets to get access to the catheter. “I retired to civilian life about 7-years ago. Hold still, I know it’s uncomfortable…” She bags the catheter and the attached collection container. “Is there anything else you need help with Doctor...?” taking off her gloves.

“Watson, John Watson. My partner here can help me shower and shave.” Squeezing Sherlock’s hand in his. “If you could have someone change the linens on the bed that would be fantastic.” 

Nurse Jessie smiles, “I’ll see to it myself. Do you need a clean gown or did someone bring you pajamas?” Seeing the open suitcase on the chair.

“Ta. Just the bedding. Oh, a shower cap, need to keep my stiches dry.” An afterthought.

Jessie grins, “In the bathroom, top drawer next to the door should have a disposable shower cap, razor and toothbrush. Anything else, soap, toothpaste?”

Sherlock speaks up, “I believe we are good, thank you. Are you ready John?” eager.

“Yes I am” smiling. Sherlock helps John rise and assists him to the bathroom. With only one eye open John has little to no depth perception. Behind them, Nurse Jessie has already started stripping the bed.

“Shower or shave first John?” Sherlock can’t wait to begin.

Smiling, “I believe I would like to brush my teeth, shower then have you help me shave.” John runs his tongue over his front teeth, “My mouth feels like something furry crawled in and died, and lord knows how bad my breath is right now.”

Smirking, “I didn’t want to say anything…”

John swats playfully at Sherlock’s hip, “Git” said lovingly. 

Sherlock closes the lid on the toilet and has John sit there while he readies everything, handing John a readied toothbrush while starting the hot water flowing and grabbing a shower cap from the drawer. The toothpaste tastes different from what John is used to, but still familiar, it takes him a moment to realize that it’s Sherlock’s brand. Peeking around he notices his toiletry bag is not in sight. By the time John is ready to rinse, Sherlock has readied the room for them to shower, shaving gear laid out on the counter.

John was still wearing the awful hospital gown, the thing wasn’t even tied properly closed. Sherlock stills, staring, when John lets it drop to the floor in a heap. John squints up at him, “You’ve seen me naked before…”

Sherlock takes a step closer to John, “I’m aware of that John, I just keep forgetting how magnificent you are.” Cupping Johns’ blushing face in his hands Sherlock leans down for a kiss. “God how I’ve missed you” he murmurs as he claims Johns’ mouth. 

John can feel himself starting to get hard, the doctor in him starts to scream in protest even though he’s enjoying the sensations. Finally managing to pull away, “Sherlock… I want to, believe me I do, but I can’t. If I get too excited, I could pass out, throw up, and have another seizure or a combination thereof. I’ll have to wait until my concussion is healed up a bit.” John can see the look of disappointment before Sherlock shutters it away. “Nothing says that I can’t pleasure you though” as John runs his hands down to undo the tie in Sherlock’s pajama bottoms letting them pool around his ankles, exposing his swelling cock. The resulting grin Sherlock gives him is glorious. John gingerly nods toward the shower stall, slowly leading Sherlock in with him.


	5. Lost and Found

When Mycroft returns with breakfast, he hears John giggling from behind the closed bathroom door. Sherlock’s muffled baritone follows, “Be still John, I don’t want to cut you by accident.” 

John’s muffled, “Right, right, sorry, I’ll behave. Whose pyjamas am I wearing anyway? Are these silk?” 

Sherlock, voice lower, “Those are yours, I had Mrs. Hudson pick them up for me.” A mumble, not clear. Then Sherlock muffled again, “Are they comfortable?” mumble, “Then wear them as my gift.”

Mycroft rises, moving away from the chair he was sitting in, when the bathroom door opens a few minutes later. “Gentlemen” a knowing smirk on his face. 

John blushes, glancing around with one eye open, “I don’t want to lay down again yet.” Wearing blue silk pajamas, slippers and the housecoat Sherlock gave him for Christmas, he sits in the chair Mycroft vacated with a sigh. Back to the window, left eye fully open, right squinted closed.

“I find I must leave you for a time, I have some pressing matters I must attend to in person today. I will return later this evening with supper. Breakfast is on the table, scrambled eggs, toast and tea. If you need anything do not hesitate to text either myself or Anthea. The guards outside the door are at your disposal as well.” Mycroft picks up his laptop, the suitcase, with the dirty clothes now in it, and his umbrella. “Until later brother mine, John.”

As he walks out John calls out, “Thank you Mycroft.” Mycroft waves his umbrella on his way out in acknowledgement.

Sherlock, in his trousers and a white button down shirt, moves the other chair next to John. Lowers the bed table to an appropriate level, opening the take out boxes Mycroft left. The blinds are partially open allowing a little bit of rare winter sunlight in, the room lights are off. They enjoy breakfast in companionable silence. 

As the boys finish eating, Doctor Mike Stamford comes in. “Hey Sherlock. John. I ran into Doc Murray downstairs, he was on when you came into the A&E John. He’s glad you’re conscious, wants to offer you a job. Apparently Doctor Elias Quincy has decided to retire at the end of the fall term this year, we’ll need a new forensic pathology professor.”

John frowning, “Really? He wants me? Why?” confused.

Mike laughing, “John, you were the best of us, you know how much he wanted to keep you. He settled for me thankfully! (Chuckle) Now you’re even better, between your time in the Army and following this one around.” Motioning to Sherlock.

Sherlock intrigued, “John could have stayed here after graduating? He was that good?”

Looking from John to Sherlock in mild shock. “He didn’t tell you? John was valedictorian, best in our class by a huge margin. Straight A’s, tops in every subject... All the department heads wanted him. I was extremely lucky to have him as a dorm mate and study partner, he made me work harder. I wouldn’t be where I am today without him pushing me to do better.”

Sherlock looks at John with renewed interest, “You never said” through a mouthful of toast. 

John shrugs back, nonchalant, “You never asked.” Back to Mike, still confused, “But, I can’t perform surgery anymore, why would he want me on staff?” Taking a small bite of eggs.

Mike reassures John, “Quincy hasn’t done an operation in years, lectures once a week. Most of the time he has been showing his students pictures of the bodies you and Sherlock have investigated with the MET. Just think John, you’d have a free pass to enter at all hours of the day and night. You could go anywhere in the hospital, use whatever equipment you wanted… the pay is more than you’d make full-time at that clinic. You would be the hospital’s official paid consultant with the Police.”

John incredulous, “That sounds unbelievable.”

From the door a tall, slim, silver haired man, wearing blue scrubs, answers. “Not unbelievable son. I was upset you got away from me years ago, would love to be able to get my hands on you now.” Doctor Murray walks over, “Glad to see you’re finally awake Doctor Watson, you had me worried for a few days.” John and he shake hands.

“Doctor Murray, good to see you again.” John places his free hand on Sherlock’s, “This is my partner Sherlock Holmes.”

“Pleasure to officially meet you Mr. Holmes.” Shaking his hand, “I’ve heard a lot about you over the years. Hope you can help me to convince Doctor Watson here to take the position. I could use a man of his talents on board.” 

Sherlock grins, “John is a man of many talents.” John blushes at the connotation.

“Need more incentive Doctor Watson? Doctor Stamford told me you have a child, we offer subsidized 24-hour child care, available 7-days a week. I would really like to lock you down before you’re discharged. Since it will be several months before the position is open, I have been approved to offer you a retainer.” Doctor Murray offers.

“You’d be a fool not to take it John. It’s closer to home than the clinic you’re at now. Better hours, pay and day-care! Just think about it John.” Mike practically begs.

John puts up his hands in defeat, “Okay, alright. What does the job entail?” eager and curious.

Doctor Murray hands John a folder, “Fantastic. Doctor Quincy lectures one day a week, Wednesday, office hours after. His arthritis has been too bad for several years for him to perform surgery. Doctor Stamford has informed me of your injuries overseas, and I did examine your shoulder when you came in. I’ll take your brains even if I can’t have your hands.” Tapping the folder in John’s hands. “There is a copy of the curriculum in there. Read over the contract, let me know if you have any questions.” Glances at his watch. “I’m on a break, I need to get back downstairs. If you have any questions just give me a call, my number is inside. I really do hope you’ll accept our offer Doctor Watson.” Doctor Murray shakes John’s hand again in parting and leaves.

John opens the folder, winces, closing his eye, and then hands it over to Sherlock. “I can’t read, my eyesight is off.”

Sherlock starts to read, quietly to himself as Mike speaks up, “I came in to let you know we can let you go home tomorrow if there’s nothing irregular in the MRI. Someone will have to be home to monitor you though.” Glancing at Sherlock, who absently nods, grunting.

John nudges Sherlock, “You listening Sherlock?”

Sherlock distractedly answers turning a page, “You should consider this job offer John.”

Ignoring Mike, John is curious, “What does the contract say? I handed it to you to read it out loud to me.”

Sherlock, finally looking up at Mike, “I’ll be there and if I have to step out, I’ll make sure Mrs. Hudson is around.” Glancing over to John then the papers again, “For starters the retainer is more than you make in a month working full time at the clinic. They’ll double that when you actually start working; a raise after six-months then every twelve. Included, once you start working is a mostly subsidized 24/7 drop-in child-care, free gym access, full health, dental and vision coverage, retirement package and paid vacation time.” Looking up at John, grinning, waving the contract, “If you work a crime scene you can charge a fee with the Yard and they’d have to pay it. We’d both be paid as I can be hired on as your assistant…” before John can ask, “I can manage with that. Apparently Bart’s has a contract with the MET and Doctor Quincy is their official medical consultant. When you take over his job, you take over fulfilling that contract as well.”

Mike is chortling. 

John is speechless, flabbergasted. “The retainer is… I wouldn’t have to work… Where do I sign?” Looking at Mike, excited, “Can I borrow your pen?”

\---

Half an hour later John and Sherlock are still grinning when Greg Lestrade knocks on the door, while entering the room. “John, great to see you mate. Sherlock texted me to let me know you were awake. Do you feel up to giving a statement?”

John goes into detail of why he was in the alley. Blow by blow information on the fight, along with who started the fight. Lestrade insisted he list his injuries and the complications from the resulting concussion. Sherlock wrote everything down, adding additional details where needed. After reading it back to John, Greg has John sign the bottom. 

They hand Greg the papers as Nurse Levi comes in to wheel John off to get his MRI. Sherlock and one of the two people guarding the door follow along. Greg heads back to the Yard, promising to stop by later with a few cold cases for Sherlock. By the time the test is finished, John is worn out from the excitement of the morning and needs a nap.

\---

Sherlock is sitting in the bed, on top of the covers, propped up by several pillows, texting with one hand, and the other hand resting on John’s right shoulder. John is curled around and over him, using Sherlock as a body pillow, sound asleep. John’s head is on a pillow next to Sherlock, right arm draped over his hips, right leg bent over the top of both of Sherlock’s. Instead of a blanket, Sherlock has tossed both their dressing gowns over John.

Mike Stamford checks in a little before 1pm. He stops, taking in the spectacle, after he opens the door, “Now that is a sight.” He lowly chuckles. “I was just heading out to lunch, wanted to see if you two needed me to bring you back anything, the stuff they serve here is inedible. I was feeling nostalgic and was headed to the coffee shop around the corner John used to work at when we were at school.” He informs Sherlock in a soft voice.

Sherlock looks down at John in thought for a moment, “John didn’t finish all of his breakfast, and he should eat something for lunch. Mycroft won’t be back until late tonight.” He looks up at Mike, “Did John have anything he favored when he worked there?” He asks low.

Mike nodding, “He used to like their chicken salad sandwich, had it almost every day, sometimes for lunch and dinner. They still have it on the menu. Would you like me to bring you back a couple? No trouble, my treat.”

Thoughtful again, “Just one sandwich, I’m not very hungry, we can share. I could do with a decent cup of coffee though, black two sugars?” hopeful.

Smiling, “That I can do, one sandwich and two coffees coming up. John still drink his coffee black?”

Smiling in return, “Yes, don’t know how he does it.”

Mike comes in a bit closer, “He looks a bit flushed, I’ll have a nurse take his temperature just in case.”

Sherlock lightly brushes the hair away from John’s stiches without waking him. They are red and a bit puffy. “Mike, his stiches...” alarmed.

Coming closer Mike looks, “Yep, infection. Damn. Okay, I’ll prescribe an antibiotic and some cream before I go.” He pulls up John’s file on the computer on the wall, types in a few lines. “I’ll just get the duty Nurse on this, then head out to lunch. I’ll be back with food and hot coffees.” On his way out the door.

A few minutes later Nurse Levi comes in with a syringe and a tube of ointment. She stops and takes in the vision of a sleeping John wrapped around Sherlock. “I hate to wake him, he looks so peaceful.” She states, putting her medications on the table so she can sanitize her hands and put on gloves. “Let’s see if I can do this without waking him up.” Wiggling her eyebrows toward Sherlock.

Sherlock watches quietly as she walks around the bed and gently runs a temporal thermometer over John’s forehead. She frowns at the number, looks at Sherlock, “low fever” she states. Then she opens an alcohol wipe and lowers John’s pajama bottoms to expose his hip. She deftly cleans a spot and quickly plunges in the prepared shot. John grunts without waking, tightening his grip around Sherlock.

“That was the one I figured he would wake up for. Let’s see if I can get the cream on without him waking too.” Nurse Levi whispers.

Sherlock gently holds John’s hair back as Nurse Levi opens the tube of cream and neatly applies it. She and Sherlock smile at one another, John is still sleeping. 

She updates Johns’ chart then leaves, as she is exiting through the door Sherlock says quietly, “Thank you.” Then resumes texting, phone sounds off.

\---

John is still asleep, wrapped around Sherlock, when Mike Stamford comes back in with a bag of food and coffee. He hands Sherlock his cup, “I grabbed a couple bags of crisps too.” Putting a large take-out bag on the bed table and rolling it closer.

“Thanks Mike” Sherlock offers after taking a sip of his coffee. Sherlock slips the phone in his pocket, he gently shakes John’s good shoulder. “John? John time to wake up and eat something.”

From around his stomach Sherlock hears a groan and a low, roughly growled, “Sod off!”

Mike chuckles, watching, as Sherlock gently shakes John again, “John, we have food. You haven’t eaten much in the past five days. You can go back to sleep once you’ve eaten something.”

With a moan John rolls over onto his back, left arm flung over his eyes. Grumbling, “Okay, fine, whatever.” John moves his arm and peaks an eye open, looking around, “Oh. Hey Mike” voice rough and deep from sleep.

“Hi John. I brought coffee and food from Tony’s Café.” Mike greets.

John, carefully sitting up, “Do they still have the chicken salad?” hopeful tone.

Mike answers, “They sure do, check out the bag.” Pointing at the table next to John.

As John gingerly reaches over for the bag, Sherlock raises the head of the hospital bed to ‘sitting’ position, adjusting pillows behind John and himself to prop them upright. Opening the bag, John sticks his nose in and inhales deeply. Slowly a big grin spreads over his face. “You’ll need to try this Sherlock.”

Sherlock answers as Mike grins, “That was the plan.”

Mike glances at his watch, “I need to head out, and I have a class in a few minutes. Doctor Murray said he’d drop by with a copy of your contract when his shift is over. I’ll stop by later, have the duty nurse call if you need anything before then.”

\----

After lunch John staggers the loo and back on his own. He realizes he is still tired even after eating lunch and consuming coffee. Sherlock is sitting in the bed, on top of the covers, propped by pillows, texting once again. John sits on the bed, legs dangling over the edge. Leaning back, John lands his head on Sherlock’s thighs and lets out a sigh. Sherlock reaches down a hand to rub John on his right shoulder.

John is curious, ”Who have you been texting?”

“Hmmm? Oh. I’ve been going through your inbox and solving cases. I sent you notes on the ones I’ve solved so far. I let them know you would be sending out a billing statement at a later date.” Sherlock replies, absentminded, while still texting.

John looks at Sherlock with both eyes, slamming them shut, then continuing, “You’ve been solving cases? From a hospital bed. While I’ve been sleeping?”

Sherlock looks at John, “I’m not leaving you here alone.” Rubbing John’s shoulder again, “I’ve been solving everything that was in the inbox, even the boring cases. I thought we could use the money to pay your hospital bill, you did get injured while on the job after all. Do we still have the joint PayPal account?”

John pleased, “Thank you Sherlock, that’s very thoughtful of you. And yes, we still have the joint account. I’m not sure how much is in it, I don’t ever use it.”

Confused, “Why ever not John? The money in the account is as much yours as it is mine. As my partner you are entitled to half after all.”

“I’ve only been your partner for a couple of weeks…”

“John, you’ve been my partner ever since the ‘Hope’ case! We may have not been together romantically, but I have considered you my partner since, especially as you saved my life that night.” Smiling the smile he shares only with John.

Turning his head and peaking his left eye open John grins back “It’s not every day I shoot someone to save a person I just met. I didn’t know you felt that way… explains a lot.” Places his hand over Sherlock’s on his shoulder.

There is a knocking at the door, Doctor Murray lets himself in. “Looks cozy, sorry for barging in. I brought by a copy of Doctor Watson’s contract. Dr. Quincy offered to let you take over his contract with NSY earlier, just let him know when you feel up to it.” Waving a folder. “I also have an application form for child-care and the hours for the gym.” Walks over bedside. “I’d like you to see one of the physical therapists when you’re feeling better Doctor Watson. I saw your shoulder when you came in, they might be able to help strengthen it. If anyone can it’ll be either Daniel or Kevin. I put their contact information in the file as well.”

Sherlock puts down his phone and takes the offered folder. He starts to go through the contents while John replies from his prone position. “I’ve already undergone physiotherapy through the army.”

“I know, but Kevin is a miracle worker with shoulders, the man simply does wonders. Daniel is our head therapist, runs the program. Between the two if any improvement can be done, they’ll find a way. I understand you may never be able to perform surgery again, but maybe, just maybe, they can help?”

Resigned, “Alright, it couldn’t hurt. I did want to start exercising again… if nothing else they can recommend a routine.”

“Fantastic! How are you feeling? You look a bit flushed.” 

Sherlock answers, nose still in the folder, “John has a slight fever. Stamford already prescribed antibiotics, John had a shot about two hours ago.”

John surprised, “I had a shot?”

Looking up, “You were sleeping. Mike came in, checked you over. We discussed lunch options. Nurse Levi came in, gave you a shot and put cream on your stitches.” Sherlock went back to reading.

Doctor Murray, “Glad to hear my staff is effective.” Smiling.

John grinning back, “Yeah, me too. I didn’t wake until Sherlock woke me to eat lunch. To answer your question Doc I still have double vision and a headache. Head feels better laying down but I know I have to sit up as well. I’m also sleepy, which is to be expected with a concussion.”

Putting on a pair of gloves Doctor Murray asks, “May I look at your stitches?” to John.

Sherlock pays attention again. John slowly sits up nodding slightly. “Of course.”

Doctor Murray gently moves John’s hair, talking while he works. “I let an intern do the stitches, he did a stint with the elective/cosmetic surgeons. Surprised he didn’t shave the hair… You shouldn’t have much of a scar though.” He spots the cream on the counter and picks it up, “Can’t hurt to apply more antibiotic cream, they are a bit red.”

Sherlock supplies, “They already look better than they did two hours ago.” 

There is another knock at the door. This time Doctor Jacobs enters with a folder. “Ah, John, you’re awake. Last time I came by you were both sleeping, didn’t want to wake you.” He steps closer to the bed and addresses Dr. Murray, “I’m Doctor Mark Jacobs, Mycroft Holmes called me in as a consultant for Doctor Watson here.”

Removing his gloves to shake hands, “I’m pleased to meet you Doctor Jacobs. I’m Doctor Vincent Murray, Dean of St Bartholomew’s Teaching Hospital. If you have some free time I’d like to discuss the possibility of you being a guest lecturer. I’ve already been lucky enough to have one of my best students come back to me.” Smiling fondly at John.

Nodding, “I will come see you before I leave, the staff here have been most accommodating.” Turning to address John, “I wanted to stop by and let you know your MRI is clear, nothing to worry about. There is a bit of soft tissue damage and swelling.” He reaches into his pocket, removing a thumb drive. “Thought you might want a copy of the scan.”

John takes it and hands it over to Sherlock without prompting, “Thank you, I’m sure it will be well viewed.”

\---

Mycroft knocks on the door as he enters, just before 7pm, he has a bag of take-out that smells as though it came from Angelo’s in one hand and the suitcase he took with earlier in the other. There is a strap from a leather messenger bag over his shoulder, umbrella hooked over his left forearm. 

Greg stops by a few minutes after Mycroft. “Hey guys, I brought a few cold case files for Sherlock.” Handing over a battered old backpack to Sherlock. “I tried to find the weirder ones this time, I know how you like the odd cases.” 

“Thank you Lestrade, I’ll let you know what I find.” 

“Food smells good. I haven’t had time to stop since breakfast.” Greg’s stomach growls loud enough to hear across the room.

John replies, “I don’t have much of an appetite yet, take half of mine.”

Sherlock adds, “Here, take mine, John and I can share. I’m not that hungry either.” Handing over his container.

Smiling, “Really? Thanks guys!”

“Angelo was generous with the portions and would only send John’s favorites when he found out who the order was for.” Mycroft adds handing over a fork and napkin from the bag.

John and Sherlock end up sharing a green salad along with a huge portion of a spinach and cheese lasagna. Since the utensils were limited to the three containers Sherlock ended up feeding John bites of food from a shared fork. 

Unknown to Mycroft until he arrived in the room, were three boxes with large portions of tiramisu hidden in the bottom of the take-out bag as well.

While eating Mycroft informs the room, “Doctor Stamford has agreed to visit Baker Street on his way to and from work until you feel you no longer require his services John. Additionally Nurse Levi has agreed to attend to Miss Watson as a temporary nanny as well as assisting John around the flat.” 

Sherlock looks affronted at this. “I can watch over John and take care of Rosie myself Mycroft. If I need any assistance there is always Mrs. Hudson.”

Mycroft exasperated, “The poor woman is in her seventies Sherlock, she can’t be chasing a toddler around day and night.”

Before the argument can fully take off John injects, “Mycroft, I’m positive that between Sherlock, myself and a little assistance from Mrs. Hudson we’ll be able to take care of Rosie ourselves perfectly fine.” Commanded by Captain Watson. “It’s not like I’m helpless, I can take care of myself.” Seeing the look Mycroft gives him. ”I can always grow a beard. (Sherlock snorts) We won’t be needing any help from Nurse Levi. I will, however, accept Mike checking in, once a day, on his way home.”

Taking a deep breath, John informs Mycroft “However, I do need help with finding someone to take Mary’s belongings, selling the townhouse, furniture and car. Sherlock and I cleared the house of everything we wanted out of it.”

“So you did move back to Baker Street then?” Greg asks John, who had reclined next to Sherlock on the bed after they’d finished eating.

Sherlock, typing on his phone again, answers, “Obviously” without looking up. “John, it is half past eight. I’ve been calling Mrs. Hudson so I could read Rosie a bedtime story around this time, I found The Three Little Pigs for tonight…” Holding up his phone.


	6. Holmes is Where the Heart Is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fell off a horse once, head first and had a nasty concussion. I love steak, rare & grilled over an open flame is my favorite preparation. For several weeks after the fall, steak, lamb and pork (well, red meat) tasted as though it had sat out in the sun for a few days, rotting. Yuck! Only food I seemed to tolerate was white meat from chicken or turkey and fish. The only exception was ground beef in a vegetable sauce.

They’ve been home from hospital for two days now. It has been two days of agonizing, tedious boredom. Two days of wandering restlessly around a spotlessly clean flat. A flat that smells all wrong, too clean, sanitized; not sure if Mrs. Hudson and/or Mycroft is to blame. Two days of being able to do nothing constructive, nothing productive, nothing meaningful at all. Two days of dull, mind-numbing, wearisome, frustrating, monotonous, droning, dreary, tedious, mindless boredom. John believes he has never been so bored in his entire life!

“John! What are you doing?” Sherlock exasperated.

“What? I’m putting the clean laundry away. Mrs. Hudson brought up what we used while I was in hospital. From the looks of it, she raided the hampers as well. And keep your voice down, you’ll wake Rosie.” Glancing at the ceiling, her room is just above.

“You’re supposed to be resting.” Sherlock frustrated.

“Yes, well, the clean clothes aren’t going to put themselves away now are they? If you’re so worried about it you can help me.” Adding grumpily, “It’s not like I’ve been traipsing up and down the stairs doing the wash myself.” Seeing a bemused look on Sherlock’s face, John takes a deep breath, “Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just so bored!”

Sherlock gives John a knowing look, “I know boredom, believe me. Fine. Hand me the socks then, you haven’t gotten the index quite right yet.” Smiling at the end.

Throwing the paired socks across the bed, “Git! How do you sort them then again?”

Sherlock smirks, “Color, thickness and material, it takes a good eye…” glances up at John realizing something, “Your vision, it’s still off, isn’t it? The window sheers are drawn as are most of the curtains, no lights; you still have the headache too.”

Slumping, “Yeah. I can’t to do anything, I can’t read, update the blog or even watch telly. Nothing is in focus! It’s getting better every day but it is still annoying.” Sigh. Starts to reach for his right temple and stops. “That and the bloody stitches are starting to itch too.” Annoyed.

Closing the sock drawers, Sherlock turns, “So, you need a distraction then?” A shrewd look.

Grinning, “Yeah, but nothing strenuous though, concussion…” pointing at his head. 

Nodding, “I remember.” Thinks for a moment, “Teach me how to cook. All I really know how to do is scramble eggs and make toast.” Sherlock admits.

John is smiling, doing his best not to laugh, “Seriously? Okay, anything specific you want to learn how to make?” Excited, this is something they can do together.

Sherlock thinking, “Nothing in particular, what do we have the ingredients for?”

Hanging the last shirt in the wardrobe, “Not sure, let’s go and find out.” Happy, John isn’t bored anymore.

In the kitchen, John opens up the refrigerator. Mrs. Hudson must have gone shopping before they came home, they are well stocked with vegetables, including carrots and celery, and they have ground beef. “Sherlock, is there any tomato paste in the cupboard behind you?” 

Sherlock checks bringing out a large can.

“How about Beef Bolognese? We can have some of the sauce on pasta tonight and make a lasagna out of the rest another day.”

Sherlock look’s hopeful, “Sounds good.”

John gives Sherlock a knowing look, “Better yet, we get to use the food processor.”

Sherlock, “Brilliant!” grinning

John teasing, “Hey, that’s mine line!” opening the refrigerator again to remove carrots, celery and the ground beef. “Grab an onion and the garlic.” Pointing. “Were did we store the food processor?” glancing around, trying not to move too quickly.

Sherlock, placing the onion and garlic on the table, “The new cupboard behind the door. Mixer and blender are in there too along with the old dishes. I’ll grab it.” Dashing around the table to pull out the appliance.

“Right, forgot. You arranged those. I’ll wash the vegetables. Set it up with the chopping blade, yeah?” 

John cleans the onion, carrots, celery and garlic as Sherlock prepares the food processor on the side table. When done, Sherlock grabs a cutting board and knife. On the main kitchen table, Sherlock starts to roughly chop the vegetables as Johns hands them over, placing them in the body of the food processor as they proceed. 

“Okay, we need to process these until they become a coarse paste.” John informs Sherlock, pulling the recipe from memory. Sherlock happily plays with the food processor.

Meanwhile, John digs out a large saucepan setting it on the hob, ready to preheat. He then opens the tomato paste and a bottle of Chianti Sherlock had stolen from Mycroft the last time he was at his house. Recalling the recipe, he remembers they’ll need bay leaves, they have some in the cupboard. However they are out of thyme. John helped Mrs. Hudson start an herb garden, when Sherlock was on ‘hiatus’, which contained thyme plants.

“Sherlock, I need to hop downstairs to Mrs. Hudson’s for a minute. You can either wait for me or add some olive oil to the pan and start browning the vegetables.” 

Sherlock, stopping the processor, “No, I’ll go down, you need to rest remember? What do we need?”

“Do you know what a thyme plant looks like?” Curious.

“Um…no.” Sheepish.

\---

**The Personal Blog of  
** **Dr. John H. Watson  
** **2nd March**

****

Cooking Up a Storm

Never thought in a million years I would be able to teach Sherlock Holmes much of anything. Other than how to perform surgery that is; though probably with his brains, he could just wing it and still be successful. And NO Sherlock, that was not my approval to give it a try!

I didn’t think anything of it at Christmas as we made biscuits and a few meals together. Sherlock never really had to fend for himself much before. Between his mother, school, take-out, me and our landlady he never had to make much more than scrambled eggs and toast. Before you wonder, I did ask permission to post that bit of information.

We had a lesson today on Beef Bolognese. Oh my god, I’ve never had better and I’ve been making this recipe for years! I’m looking forward to the lasagna we’ll use the leftover sauce up with.

We’ve had the cooking, now for the storm part. You might not have heard but I was abducted (Yes, again!) and ended up in hospital with a concussion. While reducing the sauce, I had a severe headache flare up unexpectedly. Sherlock gave me a massage, he finished it off by playing my favorites on the violin until I fell asleep. When I awoke, my headache was gone and my vision had cleared for the first time in days! 

I know you read this Sherlock so again, THANK YOU! 

\---

We have been eating scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast for a week, prepared by Sherlock. Sherlock also picked up on how I prefer my toasted cheese sandwich browned at lunch after the first day. Mrs. Hudson brought (well, had Sherlock schlep) a huge pot of chicken soup up the afternoon we came home from hospital. It was a bit of a welcome surprise this morning, to be woken by the smell of bacon frying while still having a warm body spooning me. Knowing the body behind me was Sherlock’s, I was wondering who Mrs. Hudson was talking to. I could clearly hear a male voice drifting down the hall with hers along with Rosie’s babbling.

“Lestrade. Probably stopped by to make sure there was nothing more to add to your statement.” Sherlock mumbled, sleepily, into my neck, pulling me tighter. His hot breath against my neck sent chills down my spine. 

“Hmm. We should probably get up.” I mumble back, eyes still closed.

Neither of us move.

I groan when I finally open my eyes a couple minutes later. My vision a bit blurry with a headache behind it. Next thing I know I’m gently rolled onto my stomach as Sherlock starts to massage my neck and shoulders. “Mmm, feels good babe.”

Straddling my thighs, Sherlock mentions, “Eh, not sure about babe, you call Rosie that.”

Feeling better already, playful, “What would you prefer? Sweet thing, sugar nuts, oh, I know, honey buns.” giggling.

“Oh god no! If you need to use an endearment I would prefer something less…sugary” 

“Alright love, anything in particular you do like?” I ask in all seriousness.

Sherlock blushing, “I like it when you call me ‘love’.” Massaging further down my spine.

\---

Fifteen minutes and a shared cold shower later find John and Sherlock sitting at their kitchen table as Mrs. Hudson fixes them and Greg eggs to order to go with the bacon. John is happily sipping on his tea, listening to Sherlock and Greg talk shop.

“Ta.” John says as Mrs. Hudson places a plate of fried eggs, bacon and toast in front of him. John starts to take a bite of bacon, only to have his stomach roil at the first taste upon his tongue. 

Across the table, Sherlock sees and takes the offending meat out of John’s hands and quickly shoves it, whole, into his mouth before Mrs. H can turn around again. John mouths Sherlock a silent ‘thank you’. Greg, about to admonish Sherlock, is kicked under the table by John who sips, looking completely innocent, at his tea.

“Oi!” Greg protests. This time Sherlock kicks him under the table. “Stop that.” Lestrade growls.

John and Sherlock in unison, “Stop what?” looking far too innocent after kicking one of London’s finest.

Mrs. Hudson turns back with Greg’s plate of food. “Play nice boys. How do you want your eggs Sherlock?”

“Just toast and bacon for me today thanks.” Reaching for the second piece of bacon off John’s plate, shoving it whole into his mouth once again, before Mrs. H can turn around again with his plate.

Greg is giving both men a confused look, waving his fork back and forth between them. “What’s going on with you two?”

John and Sherlock in unison again, What?”, still looking far too innocent.

Mrs. H places Sherlock’s plate in front of him. John puts his last piece of bacon on Sherlock’s plate “You should really eat more love.” Smiling fondly.

\---

**The Personal Blog of  
** **Dr. John H. Watson  
** **9th March**

**Head Banger**

It will be easier to answer everything here than in individual emails…

Sherlock and I were called in to investigate a murder, turns out there was a pair of them. During the investigation, while on a stake-out, I was attacked. During the attack I was hit upon the head and rendered unconscious, then moved to a different location where Sherlock was able to track me down, thankfully! 

I woke up in hospital having missed three days. I have a nasty concussion, stitches and severe bruising.

That’s all the details I’m able to share as the investigation is ongoing.

\---

**The Personal Blog of  
** **Dr. John H. Watson  
** **9th March**

****

One Hundred and One

And not Dalmatians either!

I know I already posted earlier today but I think this is one for the record books…

I was finally able to go through and look at the cases Sherlock solved while I was in hospital. This brilliant, amazing, mad man, solved one hundred and one cases in five days! Extraordinary! From my bedside, well sometimes sitting on my bed. Point is, he never left my side. Solved them all through pictures and information sent via text and email.

I feel so fortunate to be able to spend time with this exceptional man.

\---

“Sherlock, you must be bored. Go visit Molly. Pester Greg about a case. I feel fine and Mrs. Hudson is just downstairs if I need anything, I should be alright for a couple of hours.”

“John…”

“You’ve been cooped up in here with me for almost two weeks, not to mention the time in hospital. You need to get out. Take a walk. Anything. Do something before one of us explodes in frustration.”

“But John…”

“Rosie is happily playing, the nappy bag is full of supplies and stashed over by the door. I won’t have to go upstairs for anything, she could even nap down here in the playpen. You have to be going out of your mind with boredom by now, I know I am… Please love, for me. Go. Spend some time outside of these walls.”

“Are you’re sure? I don’t think you should be alone yet.” Concerned.

“I’ll be fine. I haven’t had a seizure since the first one in hospital. I don’t have a headache right now thanks to your massage earlier. Go out for a couple hours, have fun. Relax. Unwind.”

Sherlock nods once, “Alright, but I’m going to have Mrs. Hudson check in on you and I expect a text update every thirty, no every fifteen minutes.”

John huffs a laugh, “I’ll check in every thirty minutes. Mrs. Hudson is always welcome to come visit.” He rises from his seat to help Sherlock into his coat, giving him a deep kiss after tying the scarf. “Just a reminder for you to come back to me.”

Leaning his forehead against John’s, “Now I don’t want to leave” Sherlock purrs.

“I can take care of you when you get back.” Kissing Sherlock on the tip of his nose. 

“Is that a threat Doctor Watson?” Sherlock teases.

“That’s a promise.” John reassures, shoving Sherlock gently out the door, patting his rear on the way.

A few minutes later, “Woo hoo!” Mrs. Hudson calls walking up the stairs. “Hello John. Sherlock insisted that I come up and check on you. My yarn group is meeting downstairs today, if you want to come down you are more than welcome.”

John looks around at the flat, it’s still clean. With nothing else to do he’s been tidying up after Sherlock and Rosie daily. That and they baked a couple batches of biscuits together yesterday. “Would they object to coming up here Mrs. H? I’d rather not be too far from Rosie in case she needs me.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t object. Odds are they’ll spend most of the time spoiling Rosie to no end!”

“Oh I’m sure she’ll enjoy that!” John laughs back. “Sherlock and I baked biscuits yesterday, I can donate some to the cause.”

It has been two and a half hours and lots of oohing and awing over Rosie and various yarn projects. Several pots of tea were drunk, most of the biscuits and the food that Mrs. Hudson had prepared for the afternoon was consumed. Numerous suggestions for improvements and lots of instructions for John on how to improve his knitting and how to start a crocheted blanket. John remembered to send three texts off to Sherlock, the last when he put Rosie down for her afternoon nap up in her room as it was quieter up there.

The gossip flying about the room goes abruptly silent as a certain Consulting Detective slams open the door to the flat and stands in the doorway glowering at the strange women in his lounge.

John grins up at Sherlock’s scowl. “Oh, hey! Guess I forgot the time, sorry. I got involved in my project.” Holding up the yarn square in his lap. “Mrs. Parker lent me a crochet hook to play with.”

Sherlock takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and snorts it out in one huff. “You didn’t answer my latest texts or calls, Mrs. Hudson wasn’t answering her phone.” He opens his eyes, “I was worried John!” he growls out.

John drops what is in his hands to rise and quickly crosses the room, “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again. I must have left my phone in the room when I put Rosie down for her nap and lost track of the time.”

“Well, it’s obvious you don’t care about me.” Turning away, “I expect you and your belongings to be gone when I get back.” 

The ladies in the lounge gasp. 

“What the fuck Sherlock?!” (Another gasp) As John staggers back a step before commanding, “Stop!” 

Sherlock pauses at the top of the stairs, but doesn’t turn around. “What now John?” sounding defeated.

John rubs his now throbbing temple, “So that’s it? I forget to text and we’re through?” Stepping closer, “How many times in the past did you ignore my texts and calls on purpose? How many times was I left to worry about you? My lapse was accidental. I lost track of the time while talking about how much I love you!” Voice breaking, while waving a hand to the ladies behind him. 

Mrs. Hudson adds rising, “We were Sherlock. John was telling us about some of the cases and when he realized he had fallen in love with you and when he first suspected you felt the same. He loves you dear, don’t throw that away.” She steps closer, past John to put a hand on Sherlock’s arm, “You were miserable when John wasn’t around. Are you sure you want be that lonely again?” she asks him quietly.

Sherlock seems to melt under Mrs. Hudson’s hand. She motions John closer heading back into the flat, closing the door to give them some privacy on the landing.

“Sherlock?” John asks tentatively, gently turning him around. 

“John, I…” looks miserable, lost, tears in his eyes.

“Idiot. I love you.” Pulling Sherlock into a hug. “I’m sorry I lost track of the time.”

“I love you too.” Hugging John tighter. “Please don’t go.” Cried softly into John’s ear.

“I’m not going anywhere without you, I promise.” Leaning back to look Sherlock in the eyes.

Noises from upstairs alert them Rosie is awake. John groans, leaning his throbbing head onto Sherlock’s chest.

“I’ll go” Sherlock offers, kissing the top of John’s head. Disengaging reluctantly from John’s hug, Sherlock takes off his coat and scarf, throws them over the banister before disappearing upstairs.

John returns to the lounge, hanging up Sherlock’s coat and scarf as Mrs. Hudson looks up and frowns as Sherlock is not behind him. “Sherlock went up to tend Rosie, she’s awake.” He reassures her, massaging his right temple. “Thank you for your company ladies and for the lessons. I need to go lay down, you’re all welcome to stay as long as you need to.”

“Are you two alright John?” Mrs. H is still a bit concerned.

“Yeah, we’re good, nothing to worry about. Just a little misunderstanding.” 

They hear talking through the baby monitor, Sherlock’s voice is low as he talks to Rosie as she’s gurgling, “I just did a stupid thing little bee, I overreacted and almost lost you and your Daddy. I don’t know what I’m doing, I’ve never had anyone want to stay around this long before.” John turns the sound off on the monitor, this isn’t something for strangers to hear and the yarn ladies are still in the lounge packing up their projects. 

***

John is laying on his back in the darkened bedroom, right arm over his eyes, drapes closed, the lights off when Sherlock comes to the bedroom. 

“John? I brought you tea.” Sherlock announces quietly from the doorway, leaving the room dark.

John groans, moves his arm to squint at Sherlock, “Ta” patting the bed next to him. “Come sit with me.”

Sherlock sits on the bed, placing the cup of tea on the nightstand within John’s reach. “Mrs. Hudson took Rosie downstairs, said we needed to talk…” staring at the floor, hands held tightly between his knees.

John winces as he sits up, head still throbbing, taking a sip of tea before putting the mug back on the table. “Yeah. I love you, you know that don’t you Sherlock? These are not empty words for me, I mean it. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you too John. I just… I don’t… I’ve never!” Gets up to pace along the side of the bed.

“You don’t or never what Sherlock? I want to help.” Picking up the tea and cradling the warm mug in his hands while watching Sherlock pace, waiting a moment. John’s head throbs, “For God sake stop pacing,” he pats the bed next to him again, “come, talk to me. Please?”

Sherlock slumps next to John, “I’ve never had a successful relationship” he softly admits in defeat.

“Bollocks!” John growls, rubbing his aching head. Sherlock whips his gaze to John, “How long have you known Lestrade? Mrs. Hudson? Molly? Me? We’ve been in a relationship of one sort or another since Mike introduced us at Bart’s” stated calmly, reassuring. “Other than you trying to make me leave earlier I thought we were doing rather well.”

Frowning, “You wanted me to leave today. Go out so you could be alone…” confused.

Taking a deep breath, looking Sherlock in the eyes, “I know how easily you get bored love, you’ve been cooped up with me for over two weeks. I’m tired of not being able to do much of anything myself, you must bored to tears by now!” Putting the half empty cup on the nightstand to take Sherlock’s hand in his. “I wasn’t sending you away from me because I don’t want you with me. I was sending you away for your mental health, to use your exceptional brain. I was hoping you would come back home with a few cold cases or an experiment to run.”

John can watch the realization dawning on Sherlock’s face, “Oh? Oh, oh! John, I’m so sorry!”

\---

Mrs. Hudson had brought up chicken stew for their supper along with a fresh batch of ginger nuts earlier. Rosie is in bed for the night, sleeping peacefully. Sherlock is laying on the couch in his ‘thinking’ position, hands, as though in prayer, fingers on his lips, wearing pajamas and his blue dressing gown. John took a shower and prepared himself similarly for the night.

“Sherlock, I’m heading to bed.” John calls out from the kitchen doorway. A low mumbled, “night” is all John gets in reply. Sighing, “right” he grabs the baby monitor from the mantle and heads into the bedroom alone.

John tosses and turns. Can’t find a comfortable position. Every time he thinks he’s almost asleep, his brain will throw something at him, it just will not shut off. After an hour and a half he’s had enough of trying to sleep, he’s beyond tired, exhausted.

Standing at the kitchen door John mutters, “Sherlock?” John didn’t bother to put on his slippers.

“Hmm? I thought you were sleeping?” Sherlock turns his head to look at John. 

“Yeah. Um, are you going to, uh, lie there all night and think?” John queries.

“I was planning on it. Problem?”

“I was wondering, could you, um? Could you lay down in the bedroom and think? I sleep better with you near…”

Sitting up, taking a good hard look John, “I don’t see why not.” Rising up to turn off the lights and crossing the room, “lead the way.” 

“Do you have a case on?” John wonders what Sherlock is thinking about. Laying down under the sheets.

“Kind of, I was thinking about us.” Sherlock admits. Reclining next to John.

“Oh. What exactly are you thinking about us?”

“I… I’m not exactly sure why I reacted the way I did earlier, when I came back… I was so upset and relieved, and then angry.” Waving his hands about.

“Have you’ve never been in a, ah, a romantic relationship before?”

“Once.” Not looking at John, “It did not end well. Just a bit before my first stint in rehab as a matter of fact.”

“I am not them, you can trust me. I love you, I’m not going anywhere.” Yawning at the end. 

“I realize that John, I do trust you. It’s me I don’t trust.” Looking at the ceiling, “Get some sleep. I need to think.”

“Still thinking about us?” Yawning again, curling around Sherlock.

“Yes, sentiment, not as bad as my brother portrayed.” Rubbing John’s back, “Go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake.”

\---

John woke slowly, a warm body pressed against him, an arm over his back, a leg interlocked between his. He’s extremely comfortable laying on his stomach. Opening his eyes he spots Sherlock, who must have fallen asleep while thinking sometime during the night. Sherlock is spooned against his side, breathing evenly, slightly snoring; he finds it rather endearing.

John contemplates going back to sleep when he hears a low babble coming through the monitor, Rosie must be awake. Her noises must have woken him up. As carefully as he can, while trying not to wake up Sherlock, John slowly extracts himself from the bed. 

“Mmmm, comfortable… come back.” Mumbled from Sherlock.

John kisses Sherlock’s temple, “Rosie’s awake, I’ll just go and get her. We’ll be right back.”

Sherlock had fallen back asleep by the time John brings Rosie back down to the room. John sighs and lays down on his back next to Sherlock with Rosie napping on his chest. Feeling content he slowly drifts off into a light doze. 

When John next wakes it’s to find Sherlock lifting Rosie from his chest along with a murmured, “Go back to sleep John, I’ll take care of her.”

\---

Pot of tea? Check. Biscuits? Check. Comfortable, relaxed roommate/lover on the couch? Check. Rosie being taken care of by Mrs. Hudson so there are no distractions? Double check. Sherlock’s curiosity is getting the better of him. “John, can I ask… I hardly know anything about your childhood.”

Halting the cup of tea he was about to take a sip from, John looks at Sherlock with a pleased look upon his face. “Of course Sherlock, whatever you want to know. I have no secrets from you, you’d probably deduce it if I tried to hide anything anyway.” Said with a grin. “I’ll want to know more about you too you know.”

Pleased, Sherlock wants to start at the beginning. “Ask whatever you want John. Let us start simple. Harry is older and you two don’t get along?”

“Yeah, she’s four years older than me. We never really did get along, I always ‘cramped her style’ she used to say.” Cough, “I think it really began when she started drinking the summer I turned 8, she filched a bottle of Dads Scotch. Dad was livid, accused me of taking it. Wasn’t until he found the almost empty bottle hidden under her mattress, with her lip gloss on the rim that he believed me, meanwhile I couldn’t sit comfortably for over a week.” John growled the last.

Scowling, “He… he hit you?” 

John, pointing a finger on the side of his nose, “Got in one! I get my temper from my Dad. When he was mad or drinking, it was best to stay out of his way. Whenever I spotted him go for the liquor cabinet, I was in the habit of hiding in my room, with the door shut, until he sobered up. Out of sight, out of mind; learned it from Mum. But that night he noticed the missing bottle, put two and two together and came up with me.” Sigh. “Bastard never apologized, even when he was wrong.” 

“Did Harry ever say she was sorry?” Sherlock wondered.

Another sigh. “No, Harry never apologized either, she let him keep hitting me even though she knew I was innocent. Between watching Dad slowly kill himself drinking and the drunk who killed our Grandparents, I am truly surprised she started drinking in the first place.”

“You’ve gotten drunk before, I’ve been drunk with you.” Sherlock scowls.

“Yeah, but I was never going to be driving, that and I’ve been informed I’m a ‘happy’ drunk. I try to keep it to no more than a six-pack of beer a week, or one binge night out once a month or so. I don’t drink every day, or even every week for that matter. The only time I succumbed was after your funeral, I crawled into a bottle for quite a while.”

Sherlock nervous, “I am sorry about that…”

Taking Sherlock’s hand and giving it a squeeze, “I know, we’ve worked it out. What about you and Mycroft, was there ever a time you two got along?” Picking up his tea in his free hand to take another sip.

Sherlock half smiles, “Mycroft is seven years older than I. According to him, Mummy told him he had to watch over me the day she and Father brought me home. I do remember there was a time I used to adore my big brother. I listened in when he had piano lessons, I would run up to the attic where we had an old upright and replay everything Mycroft’s teacher showed him. I would take his old school books and read them. Everyone thought I was just pretending to read, but I comprehended everything. When I started asking relevant questions Mycroft started teaching me more advanced subjects.

“Then one Friday morning at breakfast, Mummy announced Mycroft was going away to boarding school and would be leaving that Sunday. I know now it wasn’t his fault, but I resented him for leaving me behind. 

“I had already re-written my memories of Euros by this time but I have been unable, or subconsciously disinclined, to make close friends with anyone else until you. Mummy and Father never mentioned Euros where I could hear them, and no photos survived from before she set the house on fire.”

“So that burned out place with the old abandoned well, that was your childhood home?” John wraps an arm around Sherlock’s shoulders.

“Musgrave Manor, yes, we still own the property. Or my parents still own the property. Mycroft was considering renovating it before Sherrinford… not sure about now.”

“Do you remember much of Euros? It’s okay if you don’t…” Asked gently, John’s arm is still around Sherlock, giving a gentle squeeze.

Sherlock sighs and leans into John, “I’ve been seeing Ella,” sees the question in John’s face, “yes your therapist. I started seeing to her after Mary was shot to find out how to better help you.” Waves his left hand around. “Not important, Mary did that in her own twisted way. Ella wants me to try hypnosis and urged meditation to bring some of the memories back. Mummy, Father and Mycroft have been telling me stories, some of the pleasant times we had together. 

“I hate to admit it, but I prefer the memories Mycroft helps me to remember. The property has a creek running into a pond, we used to have picnics by the pond. I remember playing pirates with my friend Redbeard, Victor Trevor. He disappeared when I was five, Euros did something with him and wouldn’t tell where he was; just sang a riddle. Those were his bones you found in the well.” Sherlock goes quiet, just breathing in John’s scent. John slowly rubbing his shoulder.

Softly John changes the subject, “The summer I turned 6, Mum took Harry and I up to our Watson Grandparents on their farm in Scotland, near Inverness. I think to get us away from dad for a bit. I told you at Christmastime my Grandma started to teach me how to take care of myself, she started that first year. Taught me how to make tea, I was proficient by the end of summer. Grandpa had me working the sheep and feeding chickens and collecting eggs. We spent time up there every summer until they died when I was 17. I really miss them.”

“How did they die?” Snuggling in closer to John.

“They were broadsided by a drunk driver coming home from church one Sunday, died on scene.” Hugging Sherlock closer. “We’re a jolly pair” with a snort.

“Yeah, aren’t we though? When did Harry tell your parents she was a lesbian?” Sherlock wonders.

“Ah. Harry had her moments, she picked our Grandparents funeral, well after it at least. Harry brought her girlfriend Clara to the services,” Sherlock lifts an eyebrow in question, “yes, that Clara. Dad caught them snogging behind the garage after we got home. He punched Harry, shouting at her no child of his could be gay, then started kicking her when she went down. I tried to help, distracted Dad long enough for Clara to get Harry away. I ended up with a broken right arm along with a black eye and several bruised ribs. Mum took me to hospital. Dad got drunk.”

“Is that why you kept saying you weren’t gay?” Sherlock ponders.

“Partly. But even back then I knew I liked boys as much as girls. I found it was easier to date girls, fewer problems. As I got older, I found I didn’t care for what other people thought as much.”

Sherlock nervous, “Do you miss women?” He can’t look at John.

Surprised, John looks at Sherlock who won’t meet his gaze. Leaning back, John takes Sherlock’s face in his hands. “Look at me Sherlock.”

Reluctantly Sherlock looks at John.

John starts off by giving Sherlock a kiss on the lips, trying to put as much feeling as he can into it. Staring into Sherlock’s eyes John states firmly, “Sherlock, I love you, I’m not going anywhere. I am here for as long as you will have me.”

Looking back at John intently, “I will never not want you John.” Serious.

Smiling, “That settles it then.” Kissing Sherlock again, “Mike is going to take my stiches out tomorrow.” Dancing his left eyebrow, flirting.

“That reminds me. When did you know you wanted to be a Doctor?” A blushing Sherlock asks.

John hugs Sherlock to him again, “I think I always wanted to be a Doctor. I tried to nurse every injured animal I found back to health, succeeded quite a bit considering. I hid in my room away from Dad so often at night all I had to do was study. I ended up going to university mostly on academic scholarships.”

Sherlock Curious, “And the Army?” 

Quick laugh, “I was an adrenaline junkie even back then. I played Rugby with a drop-in team during Med School. At one of the games a nursing student mentioned they signed up; the corps would pay for their schooling. My scholarships covered a lot but I still owed quite a lot. Bill Murray took me to the recruiting officer he went through, we both had a year left to finish. Bill and I ended up going through boot-camp together that summer break. The RAMC kept us together when we deployed, we were a good team. He left the army shortly after I was discharged.”

Sherlock is not sure he wants to know the answer, “Where the two of you ever…” He can’t ask.

“Hmm? No, not Bill, he prefers the ladies. He’s married with two kids of his own now. We get together once every few months or so for a pint to catch up. I’d like you to meet him sometime.” John squeezes Sherlock’s shoulder at the end.

Choked, “Sholto?”

Rubbing Sherlock’s shoulder again, “Major James Sholto” cough, “He was my commanding officer while I was stationed at Helmand. We were both tired, lonely, and a little too drunk one night and took comfort in each other. We’d just got back from a week of hell, one thing led to another and we were giving each other a hand-job in his office. Shortly after that, I was promoted and redeployed to Kandahar.”

“Did… did you ever want more? With him?” jealous.

John looking Sherlock in the eyes, “It was a one-off. Whatever I felt for him is vastly eclipsed by what I feel for you Sherlock. Never doubt that love.”


	7. Hello World

John fights his way through sleet, hail and spitting snow to make it to the clinic. He’s been off work for almost a month recovering from his injuries. The tube was cramped and people kept bumping into him, his head and his bad shoulder both ache and his right leg keeps cramping from slipping on the ice. He’s cold and miserable. All he wants is a nice hot cup of tea before he begins his shift. In the breakroom, he runs into Dr. Sarah Sawyer.

“John, ever since Sherlock’s been back from the dead, you’ve been absent more than you’ve been here. Dr. Gil Vega has been filling in for you. He would like more hours, I’m seriously considering giving him yours.” Sarah slightly annoyed accosts him.

“Good morning to you too, I’m feeling much better by the way thanks.” Sarcastic. Making up his mind and coming to attention. “I was going to tell you a bit more gently but… I’ve been offered another position and I signed a contract. Vega can have my hours, starting today if he wants. I’ll just go clear out my stuff.” John, giving up on tea as a lost cause, does an about turn to leave.

“Wait! John, what do you mean you’ve been offered another position? What? Where?” Shocked.

Turning back, “Bart’s, I’ll be teaching and an official consultant with the MET.” Confident, standing tall.

“You know, if you’re a teacher you can’t just go traipsing off after Sherlock…” Serious.

Calmly, “Paid consultant with the MET with my assistant Sherlock Holmes. I’m taking over Dr. Elias Quincy’s contract, he only lectures once a week. There’ll be a lot of time left for chasing criminals.”

“You have a child John, you can’t go running off at all hours…” Trying to be sensible.

“They offered 24/7 drop-in child care. The position is a dream come true. Better hours, pay and fantastic benefits.”

“Isn’t Quincy a trauma surgeon? You can’t operate with your tremor!” 

“He was a surgeon, been teaching forensic pathology the last few years.” Sarah gives him a look, “Arthritis, hasn’t touched a scalpel to a live patient for several years apparently. They don’t need my hands, just my brain. It’s a done deal, I start in January.” 

“If you start next year, why are you leaving now?” Surprised.

“They’re paying me a retainer that is as much as I can make here working full-time. I figure I could use some free time to relax and spend quality time with my daughter. Thought I might sit in on a few of Doctor Quincy’s classes too.” Thoughtful.

“If I need you, can I call you to fill in once in a while? At least until next year?” Desperate, “You’re the best diagnostician we’ve ever had!” 

“Yeah, don’t see why I can’t do a few locum shifts. You calling in Vega today or should I stay?” Really hoping he can go home. “Actually, see if Vega can come in. I still have some side effects from my concussion.” 

Concerned, “What?”

“Mostly, I’ve had a headache on and off since I woke up in hospital.” Rubbing his right temple.

\---

A black sedan is waiting when John exits a few hours later into the cold, rainy afternoon. Most of his time at the clinic today was spent filling out paperwork and clearing out his office. The sedan is a welcome sight; the other passenger though... 

“Mycroft, thanks for the lift.” John puts the box of his belongings between his feet.

“Doctor Watson” Mycroft hails.

John knows that greeting, tone and look, Mycroft is up to something and it’s not going to be pleasant. “Okay, out with it Mycroft. Is this where you tell me if I hurt Sherlock they’ll never find my body?”

“Oh I think we are past all that, don’t you?” Smirking, “I just wonder if you are ready for when he breaks your heart and leaves you.”

“And why would he do that?” headache cranking up a bit.

Tilting his head as though to a stupid question, “Boredom Doctor Watson. My brother is easily bored. I don’t want to see you end up hurt.”

John goes still, tight smile, clenched fists and growls out incredulously, “Hurt? You don’t want me to be hurt? Where was this concern after Sherlock jumped off a bloody roof in front of me and disappeared for over 2-years?” louder, deeper growl, “Where was this concern when you let me date and then wed a known assassin? The same assassin who then tried to kill your little brother?” Breathing deeply. “I don’t believe this!” Furious. “I don’t fucking believe your nerve! You. Have. No. Say. In. This. None!”

“I beg to differ Doctor Watson, Sherlock is my brother. I think I know him better than you.” Condescending.

“Last I looked, Sherlock was a grown man able to make decisions for himself.” The driver stops outside of 221B. “Don’t bother getting out.” 

Mycroft tries again, “John…” still condescending.

Growling low, “Don’t. You owe me Mycroft!” slamming the car door in his face. After letting himself in, John does every exercise Ella recommended to calm himself, thankful Mrs. Hudson is out while he paces the entryway. When he feels calmer, he walks up the stairs to home, leaving the box on the landing outside the door.

Sherlock smiles as he looks up from where he’s been playing with Rosie on the floor. “John, you’re home early.” Scowls. “What happened?” Does a quick deduction, “You quit…”

“Yeah” quiet, just standing and letting Sherlock deduce him.

“There’s something more, you’re mad. Why are you? Oh, Mycroft.” Sigh, “What did my idiot brother do this time?” Exasperated.

“I hear nothing from him when you are on ‘hiatus’, he tells me nothing of the assassin I start dating and end up marrying. But, when I’m finally, truly happy, the fat arse warns me away from you!”

“Me? Why would he warn you away from me?” Frowning, confused.

Not looking at Sherlock, it is a concern John has, “He. He said…” taking a deep breath, shoulders slumping, “He said you’d get bored with me and leave.” Soft voice, almost a whisper.

Out of the corner of his eye, John sees Sherlock rise and walk over, stopping in front of him. “John” softly. Sherlock uses two fingers to lift John’s chin to look him in the eye. “I have never been bored with you in all the time we’ve known each other. I could never be bored with you.” To accentuate the point, he leans down to give John a passionate kiss.

Hopeful, “Never?” kissing back.

Cupping John’s face, gazing intently into his eyes, “Never. I love you.” Kissing again.

John, leaning back a bit, hands on Sherlock’s hips, “I love you too.”

\---

Molly texted with an interesting liver Sherlock might like to look at. 

While Sherlock was away, I decided to run to the shops and pick up a few supplies and something for supper. Rosie and I had a nice wander through the park and ended up picking up a few things from the local pharmacy. We were exiting Tesco when I received a call.

Mrs. Hudson took Rosie when I got home, she offered to sit with her for a few hours to give me a break. I used my time well to scrub the kitchen and clean the lounge. Sherlock came home as I was stripping the bed to put on a clean set of sheets.

“What’s with all the cleaning John? I didn’t think the place was that bad?” Sherlock wonders walking into our bedroom.

“No it wasn’t. Harry called... She wants to come over tomorrow, catch up. She was not happy the first time I moved in here, she is really not thrilled to hear that I moved back. Figure I will give her less ammunition to piss her off; she was always on Clara to keep their place spotless. I just have the bathroom after this. I neatened Rosie’s room before we went to the store. Oh, I picked up ingredients to make yellow curry if you want another lesson?” Shaking out the new bottom sheet.

Sherlock starts to help put the bed back together without prompting. “I do enjoy cooking with you and you know how much I like curry.” Shaking out the top sheet. “I’ll scrub the bathroom; you’ve done too much today already.” Spreading out a blanket.

Smiling while tucking a pillow in a clean case, “You don’t have to clean…”

“I know I want to; you shouldn’t have to do everything.” Bends down to pick up the dirty linens from the floor, “I’ll just go and pop these in the washer.” Giving a surprised but pleased John a quick peck on the cheek. Calling over his shoulder as he walks down the hall, “Mind you’ll have to put them in the dryer, I almost burnt them last time.” John’s laughter follows Sherlock.

\---

Harry arrives around mid-day. John was preparing a lunch bottle for Rosie as Harry rang the bell. Sherlock takes over in the kitchen, clicking on the kettle they filled earlier as John goes down to let his sister in.

Opening the door with a smile, “Harry! Come in, it’s been too long.” 

“Johnny boy! How they hanging little bro?” As Harry walks in, John smells liquor. Harry sneezes. “Man, this place is filthy. Don’t you ever dust this dump?”

“Here, let me take your coat.” Stepping closer the scent of alcohol is stronger, John hopes that it is just that her coat needs cleaning. Stealing a quick, discreet sniff of the coat as he hangs it up, nope not the coat; shit. 

John takes a calming breath before turning back around. “You’ve been drinking” not a question.

“Just drop it Johnny.” Harry bites back.

“Behave then.” John orders as he stars up the stairs, “Oh and we won’t be pouring you anymore alcohol either.” John growls at her over his shoulder.

Harry grumbles under her breath, too low for John to hear what she’s saying. Entering the flat and spotting Sherlock in the kitchen feeding Rosie her bottle, “Oh, you’re still here then.” Harry mocks.

“Yes he is Harry, this is our home. We both live here, together…” John starts to clarify.

Huffing, “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Looking around, “Do you really even want to try to raise a kid? Especially in this pigsty? You need to get out of here little bro, this dump isn’t good enough for either of you.”

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Rosie is full and being burped by an extremely annoyed Sherlock who had sworn to be on his best behaviour.

\---

“John? Sherlock? You guys here? Decent?” Greg calls out before wandering down the hall to the bedroom; the door to the flat was unlocked. From the open doorway he spots John lying curled up on his side in bed, facing the darkened hall. The drapes are drawn, lights are off and John seems to be hugging his head and breathing rather oddly. “John mate, you alright?”

From the bed John grunts then mumbles, “Headache. Out of paracetamol. Sherlock took Rosie to pick up some.” Rubbing his scalp, eyes closed, rolling onto his back. “Case?”

“No case. Got off early, been texting you to see if you were up to a pub night. You weren’t answering and I grew concerned when Sherlock didn’t reply either. Guess we’ll have to do a rain-check though if you’re not feeling up to it.” Greg steps closer as he is talking. “You want me to try massaging your neck and shoulders? Might help…” reaching out one hand and giving John’s right shoulder a squeeze.

John moans, “No Greg… don’t. Nausea.” Eyes still closed.

Lestrade’s foot bumps a plastic bucket bedside when he steps back. “Oh. Sorry.” Lowering his voice. “Can I get you anything until Sherlock gets back?”

John stammers, “N, no…”

The door slams downstairs and they hear someone rapidly run up the stairs. Sherlock practically runs down the hallway to the bedroom, Rosie on his left hip, bag in his right hand. “John I’m sorry it took so long…” stops in the doorway when he spots Greg hovering bedside. “Lestrade.” Sherlock hands Rosie to Greg then sits on the bed. “I called Mike on the way to the chemist, he sent a prescription for something stronger than paracetamol. I picked up both. Do you want the stronger one?”

John gives a thumbs up.

“Nausea?” Sherlock asks, lowering his voice. 

John gives another thumbs up accompanied by a grunt. 

“A bad one then.” Sherlock’s voice softens even more. “Greg, can you hand me the water bottle behind you?” Greg hands over the bottle as Sherlock pops a couple of pills from a blister pack, leaving the unopened tablets on the bedside table. “Thanks” to Greg. “Open up, I can give you two now and two more in another 4-6 hours if needed.” to John. 

Greg is thankful he gets to see this side of Sherlock, so gently taking care of John. Giving medication, helping him sit up to drink water, tenderly smoothing his hair back and adjusting a blanket to cover his torso. 

“Try and get some sleep, I’ll take care of Rosie.” Sherlock rises, kissing John’s forehead before turning and herding Greg out the door and down the hall, leaving the door ajar.

Sherlock stops in the kitchen, giving Greg and odd look before asking him, “You have dinner yet?”

A bit surprised Greg replies, “Sorry, what?” Bouncing Rosie on his hip.

Sherlock takes a breath, “We have leftover curry, and I was going to heat up a plate. Would you like some?”

“Yeah, ah, sure. That would be fantastic.” Shuffling his feet a bit, “Does John get many headaches like that?”

Removing a couple large covered bowls from the refrigerator and placing them on the counter while talking. “Ever since February when Wolfe and Andersen put him in hospital. They were frequent at first, consistent with a concussion. After about a month, they only came on when he was tired or stressed. They generally manifest as migraines, today is one of the worst I have witnessed so far.” Sherlock grabs a couple of large soup bowls from the cabinet and spoons from a drawer and continues to talk while dishing out food. “Most of the time the headaches bring light sensitivity and today was no exception.” Placing the dishes in the microwave to heat. “Sometimes scents bother him as well, today he had a jar of menthol cream on the nightstand.”

“Yeah, John didn’t want me to touch him either, said he was nauseous.” Greg adds, rocking Rosie on his hip still.

Filling the kettle and turning it on. “Fucking Harry!” Growled low, leaning on his hands against the counter.

“Sherlock?” Bouncing and rocking Rosie who was not happy with the outburst.

Taking a deep breath and removing the plates from the microwave, putting a dish in front of Greg on the table along with a spoon. “Sorry. I’ll take Rosie. Eat while it’s hot. Harry, John’s sister, came to visit earlier today. She had been drinking before she arrived… things only went downhill from there.” Placing Rosie in the highchair to begin preparing her formula. 

Taking a bite, “This curry is really good, where’d you get it?” Greg wonders while chewing.

“John and I made it yesterday, you did read on his blog he’s teaching me how to cook right?” Testing the temperature of the bottle of formula in his hands. 

“Yeah, you guys are good together.” Taking another bite, “So, what all did Harry do to bring John to his knees, so to speak?”

Picking up Rosie to feed her the bottle, taking a bite from his dish as well, “First she arrived drunk, not good. Then she disapproved of me, yet again… or maybe still?” Rosie started to fuss, Sherlock took a breath to calm down. Slowly, continuing in a softer voice, “Harry didn’t listen when John told her we are together; she thinks we’re still just flat mates.” Taking another calming breath, “She didn’t make it to his wedding to Mary. Couldn’t be bothered to show up for Rosie’s birth or christening. Today was the first time she saw her niece. She’s been more or less absent from his life since he was invalided home and then had the nerve to tell John he was an idiot for moving back in here.”

“Oh John must have loved that.”

“Yeah, I don’t think even I ever made him quite that angry before.” Throwing a towel over his shoulder to burp Rosie. 

“That’s saying something!” scraping the last of the sauce and rice from his plate. 

Sherlock hands Rosie over to Greg, “You want tea or coffee?” grabbing the empty plates to leave them in the sink.

“I’d kill for a decent cup of coffee, all I’ve had today is the swill they have at the Yard.” 

Sherlock starts coffee in a press after flicking on the kettle. “Harry started ordering John to move out and look into adoption options for Rosie. She didn’t even notice her niece was healthy, happy and well-loved here.” Waving an arm to encompass the flat, “We even cleaned yesterday, well mostly John, but I helped. She complained about the dust bothering her allergies before she even took off her coat.”

Greg looks around at the clean and shiny surfaces, “Haven’t seen the place this clean since Mycroft had the place disinfected while John was in hospital.”

“You did tell Harry that John was in hospital correct?” Sherlock probes.

Greg sits up straight, indignant, “Of course I did, and I informed her in person myself. Even offered to drive her into town to see him.”

“This was the first Harry has bothered to see how John was doing; no visit, card, text, call or flowers.” Sherlock adds, pouring out two mugs of coffee before plopping a tin on the table. Sherlock notes Rosie is getting sleepy. “There are biscuits in the tin. I’ll just pop off to put Rosie to bed.”

While Sherlock puts Rosie to bed, Lestrade washes the dirty dishes in the sink and puts the two covered bowls holding what’s left of the curry and rice back in the refrigerator. 

When Sherlock comes back down about 20 minutes later, Greg is sitting on the couch watching a football match on TV while drinking one of Johns’ beers, his empty coffee mug is drying in the rack with the dinner dishes. Sherlock places the baby monitor on the mantle.

“I’m only going to have just the one beer” holding the bottle up. “I actually came over tonight to see if you two wanted to go out for a pint… Out of curiosity, how long does it take John to recover from a headache?” Greg wonders.

Sherlock sits in his chair and sighs, “The worst of the effects usually go away if he can fall asleep. He can be sensitive to light for a day or two. Scents no longer bother him, but some flavors do; bacon seems to be one of the worst. His right temple will be tender to the touch when he wakes as well, above that left from the scar.”

“So, this is all aftereffects from the attack in February then?” Greg clarifies.

“Yep” popping the ‘p’. “Massage usually helps, but not when he is nauseas.” Seeing Greg’s lifted eyebrow. “Movement can make the nausea worse; if he vomits, recovery takes longer.” Then snarls out, “John was so mad at Harry he ignored the symptoms for too long.” Taking a calming breath, “I always thought Mycroft was bad, but at least he has my best interests behind all his meddling. Harry was just vicious in her attack.”

John, from the doorway of the kitchen, weakly groans, “Don’t remind me.” 

Sherlock rises, flicking off a light on a side table as he moves closer, “John, should you be up yet?” 

John is leaning on the doorframe, obviously tired and worn out. But he still smiles at Sherlock’s concern, “Probably not… I was wondering if there was any curry left? Realized I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”

Sherlock observes John a moment, “Of course. Sit. I’ll prepare you a plate. Tea?” Turning off the overhead lights in the kitchen, leaving on the light over the sink.

John plops, ungracefully, into the nearest kitchen chair. He sits, elbows on the table, head in his hands, palms covering his eyes. “Please. Rosie in bed already?” he wonders.

Greg answers from the doorway as Sherlock is grabbing bowls from the refrigerator. “Yeah, Sherlock put her down a little while ago.”

John grunts out, “Thanks for that”. 

While Sherlock prepares a plate of food, Greg makes himself useful and refills the kettle and turns it on. Greg then sits at the end of the table, next to John, leaving Sherlock room to work. Greg announces to the room at large, “You two are great with Rosie, I haven’t been concerned with anything I’ve ever witnessed.”

\---

A few days later, I was just toweling off following a shower at Bart’s after a physiotherapy session when my phone alerted me to an incoming text.

_Client. How fast can you return? - SH_

_I text back as I start to redress. Do I need to leave Rosie at child care? - JW_

_No - SH_

_Give us 15 then - JW_

When Rosie and I arrive back at Baker Street fourteen minutes later, there is an attractive, shapely, blond, brown eyed woman sitting in the client chair. Mrs. Hudson, bless her, must have brought up tea as the woman is sipping from a cup as we enter. Sherlock rises and crosses the room to take Rosie from me as I remove first Rosie’s, then my coat and collect my own cup of tea.

Sitting in my chair by the fire, Sherlock hands me back Rosie and takes his seat across from me.

I take a glance at our client who seems to be staring at me, bouncing Rosie on my knee, with a look of pure rapture. Usually I see people give that look toward Sherlock, at least until he opens his mouth and deduces them. I politely smile back, noting that if she inhales any deeper her blouse buttons will surely burst. From the corner of my eye I can see Sherlock is scowling fiercely at her. Clearing my throat, “So, we have a client?” I ask Sherlock, bringing him back to the moment.

He sits back, takes a deep breath and with a suppressed grin. “Oh, yes. Miss Bunny Wigglesworth.” Waves a hand at the blond woman, who continues to smile vacuously at me. “If you would be so good as to start at the beginning again Miss Wigglesworth.” Placing his hands in his thinking ‘prayer’ position as he leans back in his chair, half closing his eyes.

The high pitched giggle she let out startled me a bit. Thankfully I was able to suppress a laugh, I spotted Sherlock biting his lower lip trying not to laugh himself. Bunny gives me a simpering smile and begins her story, “I seem to have a stalker. Last week I was at the coffee shop and this man bumped into me. He didn’t apologize or anything! Quite rude.”

I nod along, bouncing Rosie on my knee. I glance at Sherlock, who raises an eyebrow at me. Sighing, “Go on” I encourage.

Bunny giggles again, “A couple days later the same man, mind you, the very same man bumps into me on the tube. And yesterday I was at the shops buying groceries and there he was again, only this time he ran his trolley into mine.” She sits back, then adds indignantly, “He broke my eggs!” 

I’m thinking to myself ‘I had to hurry back for this?’ but voice out loud, “Anything else out of the ordinary happen during this time Miss Wigglesworth?” There has to be more or Sherlock would have thrown her out by now.

“No, it just seems like everywhere I went today, he was there. He was behind me in line at the coffee shop, and then he followed me onto the tube. I finally had to come here to see if you and Mr. Holmes could help me. I tried going to the police, but the sergeant I spoke to didn’t take me seriously for some reason. She just kept giggling at everything I said! Most unprofessional.”

“The police are getting rather lax of late.” Sherlock adds in, trying desperately to hide a smile, ending up taking a sip from his cup of tea.

A bit concerned about a possible stalker I ask, “Do you think he followed you here?”

She beams another simpering smile at me while nodding. “Oh yes! I saw him when the nice old lady let me in.”

Sherlock’s smile disappears as he jumps up and opens the drapes. “Point him out if you would be so kind.”

\---

**The Personal Blog of  
Dr. John H. Watson  
1st April**

**Hopping Down the Bunny Trail**

Miss Bunny Wigglesworth, our client. That is her actual name. Really. No fooling. Seemed rather chuffed when I asked if I could use her real name too… 

Miss Wigglesworth had a stalker. Turns out the man in question had been admiring Bunny from afar and was too nervous and shy to say anything when he was near. Poor Dominic Connor had it bad! Bunny pointed the poor sod out to us from our front windows. Before he knew what was happening the love sick fool was tackled forcefully to the ground by yours truly. He was then deduced and questioned thoroughly by Sherlock. Mr. Connor found it much easier to chat with Bunny after dealing Sherlock for some reason.

He had been following Miss Wigglesworth for two months trying to gather up the courage to talk to her. We ended up bringing Mr. Connor up to the flat with us to talk with Miss Wigglesworth, lending him a bit of moral support. They are going out on a date tonight, hopefully everything works out as they make a lovely couple.


	8. Holiday Docket

John made a run to Tesco, they needed just about everything, milk, eggs, tea, coffee, sugar and so on. He took Rosie to the store in her pram and brought her back in the chest harness; the pram full of the loaded shopping bags. This was one of the few times he would not have minded seeing Mycroft or one of his minions in a black sedan, unfortunately none showed. 

Sherlock is laying on his back on the sofa, while talking on the phone, when John comes through the door to the flat, heavy bags in both hands, Rosie strapped to his chest grasping a package of cleaning wipes. Putting down the shopping John hears, “Yes Mummy, I know.” Pause. “I will check and inform you yes.” Pause. “Yes Mummy.” Pause. “I know Mummy, you already said that.” Slightly irritated, sitting up. Sherlock rolls his eyes. “Yes Mummy, I will notify you as soon as I know.” Pause. “Yes I know.” Pause. “You too.” Hangs up.

John can’t help but smile at Sherlock. He had enjoyed the time with Sherlock’s parents the Christmas they spent with them despite the situation with Mary and Magnussen. “So your Mother called huh?” John asks innocently, handing over Rosie, who reaches for Sherlock, so John can take off the harness and his coat.

“Obviously” said sweetly into Rosie’s curls as Sherlock hugs her close, sniffing her blond curls. “Mummy wants the three of us to come down for Easter. The entire week if we can manage it. She referred to it as ‘Spring Break’.” The last bit groaned out.

“I’m game if you are. But my days of being able to chug half a keg of beer are long over though.” Grinning at Sherlock’s confused look. Adding a bit more seriously, “do your parents know we’re together now?” 

“They know you’ve moved back in with Rosie. Mycroft couldn’t inform them of that fact fast enough it seems.” Sigh. “He may have also slipped that I didn’t leave your side the entire time you were in hospital.” Bouncing Rosie on his knee, just to have her giggle and smile. “I wanted to tell them about us in person, together.”

“Alright, good, that’s good.” Grin on his face. “I hope they approve of me.” John adds nervously.

“It’s not up to them to decide who I spend my time with. Besides, what’s not to like?” Looking John in the eyes over Rosie’s curls.

Blushing, John counters, “No, but I would prefer to have their approval. Some people will think I moved on rather quickly after Mary. I grieved longer for you after you faked your death and we weren’t even dating.”

“Those people don’t matter. The only ones who really matter are those here in this room right now.” Bouncing Rosie again.

John leans in to kiss Sherlock before pulling back, cupping a hand on Rosie’s head affectionately. “I need to put the shopping away.” Picking up the bags by the door and walking to the kitchen, John calls over his shoulder. “How do you want to get to your parents’ house?”

“Good question…” Sherlock thinks a moment, continuing to bounce Rosie on his knee. “The train would be faster, but Rosie might not like the rocking and the noise. Plus with all the luggage we would need for a week away with an infant, too much for said train and only two adults.” Rising with Rosie on a hip, Sherlock leans against the kitchen doorway and watches John as he puts away the groceries. “A rental car would probably be easiest, no need to carry luggage too far. We could stop if Rosie starts to fuss.”

Looking at Sherlock, “You wouldn’t mind driving that far? I’d rather not if I don’t have to.” John adds.

“Shouldn’t be a problem, it’s only a few hours.” Rocking back and forth, bobbing Rosie 

“Sounds good. Guess we should call your mum back and let her know.” Placing a room temperature can of beer on the counter, “I picked up the ingredients to make a roasted chicken for supper tonight. You game for another cooking lesson?” 

\---

As much as Sherlock begged Greg for a case, the criminal elements were not complying. They headed off to the Holmes estate in Surry, just north of Crawley, on the Thursday before Good Friday. John was grateful Sherlock rented a Range Rover SUV for their road trip to Sherlock’s parents. Between a suitcase full of her clothes, a portable crib, plus spare bedding and enough nappies to spend up to two weeks, let alone her formula, and bottles, Rosie’s supplies alone filled most of the back of the car.

Violet Holmes threw open the front door and rushed out to the car before John could manage to get his door open. “Darling boy, you came!” Giving Sherlock a fierce hug as he steps out of the drivers’ seat. “How was the drive?” She adds following Sherlock to the back of the SUV.

“The drive down was uneventful Mummy. Nothing to note other than John’s abysmal taste in music.” Sherlock answers.

“Hey,” John huffs over the backseat, unfastening Rosie from her carrier, “The Beatles are not abysmal!”

Sherlock slings the diaper bag over his shoulder while picking up his and John’s suitcases. “They were singing about being a walrus John! A walrus!” Moving up the driveway, “I will select the music for the drive back to London, it is bad enough you listen to that drivel while at home, but while stuck in a vehicle for hours with no means of escape…” The rant fades out as Sherlock disappears into the house.

John laughs as he pulls Rosie out of the car seat and greets Sherlock’s mother, “Guess he’s got a point there. I never really thought much about the lyrics before; ‘I am the walrus, goo goo g’joob’.” Giving her a one armed hug, “Thank you for inviting us Mrs. Holmes. How are you?”

Violet grins, “Call me Violet or Mummy dear. We’re both doing very well John. Sherlock told me you were doing much better after your ordeal; dreadful business, simply dreadful. We are glad you and your baby girl could come and join us.” Eagerly taking Rosie from his arms, “Let me help you.”

“Uh, thank you” John answers as he grabs as much of Rosie’s gear as he can carry before following Violet and Sherlock into the house.

John meets Sherlock upstairs outside his old childhood bedroom. “My parents set up the guest room for you and Rosie… you are still sleeping with me correct?” Sherlock nervously wonders.

“Yes, of course Sherlock. We can tell your parents we’re together later, your Mum said something about drinks before dinner. We can tell them then if not before.” John assures, taking Sherlock’s hand and kissing the knuckles on the back of his lovers’ right hand.

\---

A few hours later… “John dear, we have a fully stocked liquor cabinet. What can I get for you?” Violet Holmes asks as he and Sherlock come into the lounge from gathering Rosie from her afternoon nap. Siger, humming, is placing another log in the woodstove filling the home with a comforting warmth.

“Whatever you are having is fine.” John responds as Sherlock counters, “He prefers beer or scotch, neat.”

Without missing a beat, Violet retorts, “Scotch it is then.”

Sherlock picks up two of the poured glasses, “Mummy, Father… I have something” looking fondly at John sitting on the sofa bouncing Rosie on his knee, “We, um. We have something we need to tell you.” Handing John a glass before sitting next to him. He noticed John’s left hand is steady while his is shaking. John puts his drink on the side table without taking a sip.

Violet sits in the overstuffed chair across from them, Siger sits on the arm, leaning back toward his wife.

“You know John has moved back into Baker Street with his daughter Rosie correct?” Sherlock begins nervously. John places his right hand over Sherlock’s left knee, giving a gentle squeeze. 

Violet responds, “Of course dear, that’s part of why we asked they come here with you this visit.”

“Right… right,” Sherlock looks at John in desperation.

“We wanted to let you know in person that, um, Sherlock and I are, ah… together now.” John smiles at and takes Sherlock’s left hand, interlocking fingers, while talking.

“Yes, we gathered that.” Siger says. Both parents notice the surprised looks on John and Sherlock’s faces.

Violet ends the confusion, “I went to check on the guest room earlier, make sure everything was alright. The portable crib was set up and the babies’ things were neatly arranged across the bed. When I looked in your room dear boy (eyes on Sherlock), the wardrobe was open and I saw John’s clothes hanging next to yours.”

“It was fairly easy, even for us, to put together with that much evidence.” Siger smiles.

“So… you (cough) don’t mind then?” John questions nervously. Giving Sherlock’s hand a gentle squeeze, receiving one in return.

“Why would we mind?” Violet and Siger reply in unison, “As long as you’re happy.”

“John was concerned people would think he was moving on too soon.” Sherlock admits, glancing at John.

“Nonsense dear, you have known each other for ages. Frankly we thought the two of you were together before from reading John’s blog and some of your brother’s comments.” Violet admits.

“Speaking of whom, your brother Mycroft announced he will arrive Sunday in time for Easter services and stay through supper.” Siger announces.

In the silence following the declaration of Mycroft’s arrival, John hears from the stereo playing in the corner:

_I believe most people are good and most momma’s ought to qualify for sainthood_  
I believe most Friday nights look better under neon or stadium lights  
I believe you love who you love, and ain’t nothing to ever be ashamed of  
I believe this world ain’t as bad as it looks  
I believe most people are good 

“Luke Bryan dear, if you like him you’ll just love Vince Gill, his CD is up next.” Violet informs John.

\---

Getting ready for bed Friday night John recalls the day he had. It started with a quick trip to town to pick up hot cross buns with Sherlock’s Mum. In the afternoon he escorted Violet to the local Catholic Church around noon for services. Sherlock, Siger and Rosie remained behind at the house. Siger stayed, mainly, to prepare dinner for that evening. Sherlock had no desire to attend church and volunteered to entertain Rosie for the afternoon.

“So, your Mother is a genius too.” John states, pulling off his vest. He didn’t have a chance to talk much with either Holmes parent the Christmas he and Mary where here last. Mary got the rundown but declined to share most of the information she had amassed.

Taking a moment to run a hands over John’s bare chest before answering. “Yeah, Father too. Though he refers to himself as the ‘sane one’.” Sherlock replies and reveals, after seeing the curious look on his lovers face. “Mummy and Father met at a school mixer at Cambridge; love at first sight apparently. Father was majoring in business law with a minor in music theory and Mummy was finishing up her Maths Ph.D.”

“Mary did say your Mum gave up her career to raise children.” Muttering lower, under his breath, “About the only information she did share.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, headache threatening.

Sherlock notices and steps closer to give John a quick kiss for a distraction. As he starts to pull back John cups the back of Sherlock’s neck to keep him there and deepens the kiss.

“My parents are just across the hall John…” Sherlock begins, low.

John kisses then nips Sherlock’s earlobe before murmuring, “We’ll just have to be quiet then won’t we?”

\---

Saturday morning during breakfast Violet suggests they pack a basket for a picnic lunch, since the sun was shining. They should head over to the pond they used to spend time at when the children were young. John left it up to Sherlock to agree or not.

Changing into faded blue jeans and adding a jumper for extra warmth, John can’t help but notice the tension in Sherlock’s frame. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I’m sure your Mum and Dad would understand.”

Sitting on the bed, staring at the floor holding a fussing Rosie, “No. I… I want to go.” Looking up at John, tense, “I don’t remember much from that time, just snippets. Maybe being there will help unlock something.” Looking closer at the button down shirt under John’s oatmeal jumper. “I remember… Victor used to wear a red and blue checked shirt similar to the one you have on.”

Looking down in surprise, “Do you want me to change? I will if you want me to, no problem.” 

“No. No, I, um, like you in that shade of red.” Blushing, “Almost as good as you look in that color of blue.” 

John smiles fondly and steps closer to put his arms around Sherlock and Rosie. “If you feel overwhelmed at any point we can leave. I’m here for you if you need me love.”

Gripping John’s waist with one hand, “Thank you John.” Rising and looking around, “Now, where did I put the hat and sunglasses I packed for you?”

\---

John packed a few easy to clean toys for Rosie along with a change of clothes and extra blankets. Violet, anticipating the need, had purchased a few plastic toys and a bucket to store them in for the occasion. 

Sherlock drove them all in the rental SUV, neither he nor John wanted to reset the baby seat for Rosie. The seat was difficult to say the least to secure in the first place, they had no intention of removing it until they returned the vehicle. John sat in the back with Violet and Rosie, leaving the passenger seat for Siger. Violet seemed ecstatic to have a baby to fuss over and was taking full advantage of the situation.

On the way to the pond they bumped down the drive by the abandoned, burned out husk of Musgrave Manor. John could just make out the archway to the ‘funny tombstones’ from his seat on the way by.

From the other side of Rosie, Violet lightly places a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder in front of her, “Maybe we can stop on the way back and have a quick look around. John never saw the old place in the daylight…” 

Sherlock grunted an affirmative while watching John’s reaction of a quick shrug, in the rearview mirror 

Violet looking over Rosie at John, “We had the well sealed up, nobody will be able to fall into it ever again.” Blurted out, earnestly.

John stiffly nods back at her, “Ah, that’s, um good.” It’s not like he or Victor fell into the damned thing to begin with. Sherlock’s jaw tenses, John catches his eyes in the rear view and subtly shakes his head in negation. This is not the time or place to start an argument with his parents.

The day went alright for the most part. Sherlock wandered the shores of the creek and small pond, stopping at a small cove that looked familiar. John followed along, trusting Violet and Siger to keep watch over Rosie while she played. Sherlock was surprised when John picked up a rock and skipped it over the water, it hopped six times before it sunk under the rippling surface of the pond. Sherlock grinned at John and tried to skip a rock of his own; it soared out and landed with a dull plop. Looking a bit sheepish Sherlock informs John, “It’s been a long time since I tried to skip a rock.”

\---

**The Personal Blog of  
Dr. John H. Watson  
15th April**

**Skip to my Lou**

First off, Happy Easter.

Sherlock, Rosie and I are spending the holiday with Sherlock’s parents. We’ve had a lovely time so far but the ‘British Government’ has yet to make his appearance. Should be alright.

We spent most of today at the Holmes’ old estate, Musgrave Manor, and the grounds today. Brought back a lot of childhood memories for Sherlock, some bad but most were good. Sherlock wants to go back again when we can spend more time to tell Rosie all about the graveyard with its funny tombstones. Sherlock’s parents added a pretend graveyard to cater to Sherlock’s love of Treasure Island as a child, the names are made up and the dates are off by hundreds of years on some.

Most of the day we wandered around a pond and creek on the property. I skipped a few rocks and taught Sherlock how as well. I think Sherlock deleted how to skip a stone over the water. I feel extremely privileged the few times I am able to teach him something and today was no exception.

Until next time.

\---

Mycroft’s driver dropped him off in front of the Church just in time for Easter morning services. 

John had spent most of Saturday afternoon and evening convincing Sherlock it would be a nice gesture to attend church services in the morning. His mother won’t be around forever and she will appreciate his being there. In the end John made Sherlock a deal that he would fellate him when they put Rosie down for her afternoon nap for the remainder of the trip. After that, Sherlock suggested they spend an extra week, maybe even two…

During afternoon tea Mycroft takes an envelope out of his inner coat pocket and hands it over to John, then sits in a chair opposite.

“What’s this then?” John wonders, confused, and a bit nervous. Last time Mycroft handed him an envelope it was a blood test showing the level of illegal drugs in Sherlock’s system.

“Open it Dr. Watson.” Mycroft urges.

“Myke don’t upset John…” Violet begins, cuddling Rosie, sitting on a chair, next to Mycroft, in front of the burning wood stove. Siger is in the kitchen preparing afternoon tea for all.

Mycroft holds up his hand, palm out. “It should not be upsetting Mummy. Open it John.”

John is sitting on the couch, Sherlock had been pacing behind it since they came back from church services; refraining from complaining about his wasted time at John’s request, and anticipating Rosie’s nap. John opens the envelope and feels Sherlock’s warmth behind him, reading over his shoulder. John pulls out a rather large check and a few folded sheets of paper. 

Looking up John asks Mycroft, “What’s this a bribe?”

Mycroft sighing and cocking his head to the side, “Read the papers John.”

John hands Sherlock the check over his shoulder and opens the papers. It lists, in detail, all of the items that were left at the townhouse and the price for each. There is also a list of several account numbers from banks from around the globe. John looks at Mycroft a bit confused.

“I took the liberty of having my people check all of the known aliases your wife used. They uncovered several bank accounts around the world. We have closed out each one and consolidated everything into your account.” Seeing the shocked look on John’s face, “You did ask me to take care of the townhouse and its contents while in hospital. The check is the money from the sale of the property, its contents and the vehicle.”

“But this… we were struggling… I was working double shifts…” John stammers. Slamming his left fist on the stuffed arm of the couch, rising a cloud of dust, “Lies, lies and more LIES!” The last bellowed.

Sherlock, touching John’s right shoulder, “John”, as Rosie starts to cry in Violet’s arms.

John pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. “Right, sorry… I’m sorry.” Takes another breath, placing his hand over the one Sherlock has on his shoulder. Opening the paper again to look at the numbers. “Bloody hell, at least I don’t have to worry about putting Rosie through University anymore.” John and Sherlock trade papers.

\---

A week later they’ve been home just a couple of days, Sherlock having insisted they spend a few more days with his parents. “Hey John, you’ll never believe this one.” Lestrade states as he lets himself into the flat, leaving the landing door open as he found it. Looking around, “Where’s Sherlock?”

John glances up from the newspaper laid out on the coffee table in front of him. “He took Rosie for a walk in the park since the sun is shining. I have another headache threatening and stayed in; I’m still having issues with bright lights, this bloody concussion is lingering. What’s up, got a case?”

Resigned, Lestrade brings out papers, “You know the bloke you punched in the alley before his partner knocked you out?”

Grinning, John replies, “You’ll have to be a bit more specific Greg. That sort of thing happens more than you’d think while running around with Sherlock.”

Smirking, “Right, how can I forget? Okay, beheadings in abandoned restaurants… I believe you named the case ‘Head Bangers’ on your blog?” Greg adds.

“Oh, yeah, right. What about them?” John wonders, absently rubbing his right temple where the stitches were.

“Well, apparently Benjamin Wolfe, the guy you gave the black eye to, is pressing assault charges against you.”

“Really? He does remember that I didn’t throw the first punch and that he and his friend both attacked me first?” John sits up straighter.

“He’s claiming you threw the first punch. I think he’s hoping that you don’t remember enough to go on the witness stand and testify. His lawyer was trying to get into your medical records.” Seeing John stiffen, “Relax. Mycroft sealed all your records when you first moved in with Sherlock, so no worries there.”

“Too bad for them. I remember everything in detail up until it all went black when I was blindsided. Their lawyer is aware that I had defensive wounds? My blood and hair on their clothing. Not to mention they had me tied up and transferred to another location. It’s all in the police report for their arrest.” John grumbles back. 

“Yeah. Mycroft called to let me know he and the Holmes family lawyer will be stopping by to go over this. He wants to keep you out of the courts. You remembering everything will be a deterrent for them to keep going.” Greg hands John the papers, “I was supposed to give you a summons to show up in court, but your lawyer will do so with your testimony instead.”

They hear a knocking on the door downstairs. John hears Mycroft and an unknown male voice talking with Mrs. Hudson in the entryway. Both he and Lestrade wait as they come up the stairs and into the flat.

Mycroft glances around, “Dr. Watson, DI Lestrade” formal greetings, before adding, “Where is my brother?”

John answers, “He isn’t here. Sherlock is in the park with Rosie.” His headache is getting worse from the stress. Nodding his head toward the unknown man behind Mycroft, “Who’s this then?”

The man steps forward, extending his hand to shake, “I am the Holmes family lawyer, Henri Daggett. Dr. Watson, I am a huge fan of your blog. I am here to go over the allegation of assault brought against you by a Mr. Benjamin Wolfe. Do you recall the events on the afternoon and evening of 23rd of February of this year?” Sitting at the opposite end of the couch from John. Greg sits in Sherlock’s chair, Mycroft settles in Johns.

“Well I remember it up until the time that I was knocked unconscious. I woke up in hospital three days later with stiches on the right side of my head. I’m still feeling the effects of the concussion. I should be the one taking them before a Judge for recompense for the hospital stay and lost wages.” John growls back.

With a glint in his eye lawyer Daggett takes out a voice recorder and asks John to add as many details of the time as he can. John began, “On 21, February Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade of New Scotland Yard asked Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective, to assist at a crime scene. I work along with Mr. Holmes as a medical consultant. After investigating at the scene of Mr. Lazlo Marsh’s murder and then seeing the photos of a previous, similar murder Sherlock, Mr. Holmes, deduced the person whom he suspected for the murders would attend a performance at a local theater. Sherlock left me to watch from an alley across the road from the front of the theater while he proceeded to watch the rear. 

“While waiting, I heard a noise behind me. When I turned, a man I didn’t know attempted to punch me. As a former member of the RAMC I am well capable of defending myself, and I did just so. I was able to block the first punch and returned one of my own, knocking down the assailant. That is when I spotted another man coming toward our position. 

“When the second man came in range I noticed he had a piece of wood in his hands. I was able to block the first few blows and knock the weapon out of his hands, pinning him, face first, against the alley wall. When I heard movement behind me, I turned to look. That is where everything goes black. 

“Next I knew I was waking up in hospital; I had been unconscious for three days. I had 15-centimeters of stiches along the right side of my head, from my eyebrow to above my ear. I experienced double vision, headache, nausea and a sensitivity to bright light. It is now 15, April and I am still suffering headaches and issues with bright lights resulting from the concussion.”

“Thank you Doctor Watson. Did you suffer any other side-effects from the attack?” Daggett

“Yes. I experienced a seizure while in hospital. I had never undergone one before. Mr. Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock Holmes’ elder brother was a witness. I also seem to have developed an aversion to red meat since the incident as well.” When John finished the glint in Lawyer Daggett’s eyes gleamed a bit brighter.

Greg in Sherlock’s chair nods. Lawyer Daggett, “Please explain the last part further.”

“I seem to be able to consume eggs, fish and white meat; chicken and turkey. Ground beef in a vegetable sauce is tolerable. But I have been having issues with nausea since the attack if I attempt to eat larger pieces of pork, lamb or beef. I used to love bacon, can’t stomach it anymore.” Greg grunts from the other side of the room remembering breakfast a few weeks back.

“What was the rank you attained while in the RAMC?” Daggett probes.

“I was invalided out at the rank of Captain.”

“Invalided? What were the extent of your injuries Doctor Watson?”

“While on a mercy mission I was shot in the left shoulder; through-and-through. It is my dominant side.”

Smiling, lawyer Daggett asked, “You defended yourself against attack from two aggressors with an impaired dominant side?”

“Yes. I acquired nerve damage resulting from the injury and subsequent infection.”

Nodding lawyer Daggett asks, “Last question Dr. Watson. Were you awarded any medals while in the RAMC?” 

John proudly replies, “I was awarded several Distinguished Service medals as well as the Queens Medal and Victoria Cross. Oh, and the Americans awarded me a Medal of Valor.”

Lestrade who was sitting in Sherlock’s chair looks as though his eyes are about to pop out of his skull at that information. He knew John was an army doctor but didn’t know he was a decorated war hero. He soundlessly mouths ‘wow’.

Turning off the recorder and pocketing it lawyer Daggett looks at John. “I foresee no problem with Mr. Wolfe’s allegations. Being a decorated war hero will help your defense along with your detailed written report, medical file of the incident and verbal testimony not to mention the CCTV recording of the initial attack.” He holds out a card to John. “If you think of anything further please do not hesitate to contact my office. I, or someone from the office will inform you of the outcome.”

Before the lawyer can make his leave, the door downstairs opens. They can all hear someone bounding quickly up the steps. Sherlock, holding Rosie on his right hip, stops in the doorway, assessing. “Why does John need a lawyer?” he demands walking over to the couch, sitting on the arm next to John.

\---

**The Personal Blog of  
Dr. John H Watson  
27th April**

**Justice Is Served**

Barrister Henri Daggett, not our client, but, I am his. Evidently, someone thought it would be a good idea to take me in front of a magistrate for assault (see blog post ‘Head Bangers’). I still experience side-effects from the injuries resulting from my two attackers, but memory loss was never one of them. My testimony and copies of the police files lawyer Daggett took before the Judge were enough for them to drop all charges. 

On a side note, lawyer Daggett filed a counter suit demanding recompense for the hospital stay and my lost wages. Apparently the two were rather wealthy, note I keyed ‘were’. Between the families of their two victims and the lawsuit lawyer Daggett filed on my behalf, they are no longer so well-off anymore. 

\---

“John!” Sherlock exasperated.

“What?” John, equally exasperated.

“Mike said until your headaches stop you’re supposed to be taking it easy, what are you doing?”

“Well, after the, um, celebration we had last night the sheets needed changing. I mentioned it when we got out of bed this morning.”

Blushing, “We did do a bit of celebrating didn’t we? I rather enjoyed riding you last night.”

Fondly smiling while blushing in return, “Yeah, you were stunning, bloody gorgeous. Wore us both out, we cleaned ourselves off with the edge of the sheet before falling asleep. They need a wash.”

“But…”

“I’ll show you how to wash the sheets later.” John, enjoying the shocked look on his lovers face. “We have another clean set, since you’re here you can help me put them on.” Smug.

“John, I don’t want to do laundry. That’s why I send everything out to the dry cleaners…” sulking.

“And Mrs. Hudson and I have been washing your pants and socks. Mrs. Hudson shouldn’t have to do our laundry, we have too much what with a baby and all.”

“She said she doesn’t mind…”

“I know love, but she’s not as young as she used to be. We can’t expect her to be trudging up and down the stairs carrying heavy loads. It’s not good for her hip.” 

“Right.”

“Chances are you’ll only need to do laundry when I’m unable to or you feel like helping.”

“I don’t mind the washing machine. The dryer hates me though…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beer Can Chicken  
> 1 whole roasting chicken  
> Dry rub of choice, I prefer Kinders Brown Sugar Rub  
> 1 tablespoon olive oil  
> Lightly oil chicken and spread on rub of choice inside and out.
> 
> 1 can room-temperature beer  
> 1 sprig fresh sage  
> 1 sprig fresh rosemary  
> 1-2 sprigs fresh thyme  
> 1-2 bay leaves  
> Open beer and remove @1/3, insert herbs through hole in the top of the can. Insert can into cavity of the chicken, use the can and legs to hold chicken upright in baking pan on the grill.
> 
> Grill or bake chicken for 1½ to 2 hours or until cooked through.


End file.
